


The Ghost of Pandora

by MsBluebell



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Ai Is Going To Force Everyone To Drink Their Loving Yusaku Juice, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chronic Pain, Coping, Den City is a Fucking Nightmare, Dr. Kogami's A+ Parenting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Go doesn't even go here, M/M, Medication, Mutual Pining, No Slowburn We Die In An Inferno, Obsessive Behavior, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Roboppy is the best parent here and they're a Roomba, Ryouken is a Closeted Theater Kid, Shima doesn't even go here, Shouichi and Akira have been Tired for a hundred years, Strained Relationships, The Lost Incident (Yu-Gi-Oh), Their Foster System is Trash, Therapy, Touch-Starved, Trans Fujiki Yuusaku, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Who Let Specter Run off?, Yusaku is that kid that did the entire group project by himself, everyone is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 68,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBluebell/pseuds/MsBluebell
Summary: Prometheus gave men the gift of fire, and in return Pandora was made to unleash suffering upon mankind. It's not a perfect match for their situation, but Ryouken finds a likeness between his story and theirs. He saved six children at the behest of green eyes, and in return he was punished by despair being unleashed upon his world.But it will be worth it so long as those six children are safe.(Or, instead of convincing himself he was wrong for calling the police and rescuing the Lost Kids, Ryouken copes with the aftermath by doubling down on his decision and deciding that Den City isn't doing enough to protect them. So begins a ten year long mission to collect them.)
Relationships: Ai | Ignis & Fujiki Yuusaku, Bessho Ema/Zaizen Akira, Fujiki Yuusaku & Homura Takeru, Fujiki Yuusaku & Kusanagi Shouichi, Fujiki Yuusaku & Roboppy, Fujiki Yuusaku/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Spectre/Sugisaki Miyu/Zaizen Aoi, Spectre/Zaizen Aoi, Sugisaki Miyu/Zaizen Aoi, The Lost Kids & Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Zaizen Akira & Zaizen Aoi
Comments: 163
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

**Iktsuarpok,** (Inuit) the feeling of anticipation you get when expecting someone, and you keep going outside to check to see if they’ve arrived.

* * *

Obsession was a curse that has been a part of the Kogami family for as long as they’ve been a name.

Ryouken discovered this young, during the early days of his youth, so long ago he can even remember vague images of his mother’s features. It’s a startlingly young age to discover that you’re doomed to be driven by obsession, but the young age also meant he hadn’t realized the debts of what that word meant, or the horror of how far that feeling could drag him under. 

He was young, it’s true, but even then he knew his father was a man driven first and foremost by his obsession with science. With the evolution of humanity. And though he was too young to know what that meant, he also remembers he wasn’t surprised or resentful by the idea. His father had always been a busy man, but he was a loving one when he was home. 

At least to Ryouken he was. He doesn’t have any memory of his father kissing his mother, or holding her, or doing any of the things he’s come to understand couples do. Nor does his father, years after his mother’s absence, keep photos of her, or mention her, or even reminisce about her. He doesn’t even really seem to know her well, unable to answer the few questions Ryouken had dared to ask over the years. But even if his father never loved his mother, which Ryouken expects may very well be the case, he was still a good father to him, so he never worried too much over it. There’s an understanding between them, one that’s lasted since he was young, his father’s heart is closed to all but Ryouken himself and science. 

So perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he finds himself falling into an obsession of his own. But somehow he’s still caught off guard when, hours and hours after his father takes away his new friend, he’s haunted by green eyes.

He’s just feeling guilty, he thinks at first. Because that boy was going to be his friend, and he trusted Ryouken so naively and innocently, and walked into what would become the worst part of his life with a soft smile and shiny eyes and a warm hand wrapped around Ryouken’s own. They were having so much fun, showing each other their duel monster cards at the coffee table, sharing exciting stories with their new friend. Ryouken’s first friend. 

Then his father came home.

Sometimes, when Ryouken closes his eyes, he can still see them. Those green eyes, watery with tears, screwed with hunger and pain. Those eyes burned like hellfire, Greek fire, forever burning even as he desperately tried to drown the memory of them. But he never could forget, no matter the time that passed or the pain that he endured, those eyes would never let him forget. 

Ryouken rubs his own eyes with his palms, trying to rid them of the ghosts haunting his vision. One would think, after years, the memory would fade. But no, his memories of the sixth victim burned as brightly as ever, the clearest remainder of a childhood long lost.

He looks away from the monitor, letting his gaze fall onto his father’s prone form, comatose body as unresponsive as it’s ever been the last few years. Tubs and wire and all manner of machinery at his side, keeping him alive against all odds. His body should have shut down long ago, without a mind to occupy it, but Kyouko was never going to give up on saving her mentor, and Ryouken made for a just as determined assistant. 

He clicks his tongue, looking away from his father’s prone form, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. If he can trace the code then maybe he can pretend the man isn’t next to him at all. He could move to another room, away from the ticking time bomb to his conscious, but he finds it a very good motivator for paying attention to his work. 

Though maybe that’s just a lofty excuse for the sort of the emotional masochism he seems to enjoy. He has more than enough motivation swimming within the recesses of his mind to keep him going without his father’s body lingering on the edges of his vision. But here he is anyway, with green eyes haunting his memory and the man he betrayed for those same eyes just beside him. If he were a man prone to fanciful ideals, and he absolutely is, he’d think it’s poetic that he constantly, willfully, puts himself between those two choices again and again. A constant test of faith, he reasons, a thin smile spreading across his lips. Dangling one temptation next to another to see where his heart truly belongs. 

He knows what he’ll choose every time.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ryouken leans back in his seat, stretching his arms over his head. His eyes flicker to an image on the screen, the object of his obsession pictured in blurry pixelated form. He wrinkles his nose at it, not for the first time resenting the poor quality of the equipment his father and the others had used. He understands why the documented the victims so poorly, not wanting to humanize them in their own minds, wanting to forget them and leave them as abstract concepts after, but it’s proven to make things more than a little difficult over the years.

“Where are you?” He asks the blurred image, reaching his fingers forward and tapping against the thin glass. It enhances the image, pulling up the entire file and leaving his work long forgotten behind it. There isn’t much on the sixth victim, a single page of notes and clinical observations strictly based on what was needed to be known for Ignis’ creation, nothing more. No details on his personality, no backstory, no observations of health and habits. _Nothing_. Just one more thing to fuel his endless frustration.

Ten years has been too long awaiting their reunion.

The door opens, and Ryouken is snapped out of his stupor. He flicks the files downward, minimizing the files safely away from view. He feels a spark of irritation bubble in his stomach, thoroughly he refrains from saying anything. There’s no rule against others disturbing his time here, and he hasn’t explicitly said that he wants to be alone. He had just naturally assumed that most of the occupants of this residence would want to avoid this particular room, this whole wing even. His eyes flicker upward, wondering who they would find that dare braved his temper.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Dr. Asou stood in the arch of the doorway, standing straight and square shouldered, his hands interlocked behind his back. It’s news then, important news. Because if there’s one thing Ryouken has observed over the years it’s that when it comes to upsetting news Dr. Asou is always the one who volunteers to deliver it in place of everyone else. Because he’s the oldest, and because he sees himself as something of an older brother or second father figure to Ryouken, and because he thinks Ryouken will take the news best from him.

And Asou wouldn’t risk coming here in the flesh for just anything. Not _here_ , not this house, at this time, when everyone is home.

The teen leans back in his chair, straining the limits of how far back it will go, spinning it to face the man in question. “Dr. Asou, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The man almost looks like he wants to snort at the wordy peasantry, but he doesn’t. He steps inside the room instead, silently pulling the door closed behind him and softly clicking it shut. A wise move, Ryouken thinks. Then, for a fanciful moment, he wonders who even let Asou inside the house. Probably Specter. He’s the only one that would’ve without breaking anything or causing a fuss.

  
  
“I have good news.” Asou starts off, walking forward slowly. His grey eyes flicker towards the bed, and Ryouken can see the tell tale click of his jaw. He knows the adults in his life are all more than a little worried about him, and this little scene probably doesn’t help. To Asou, he must seem like a little boy, making up for his lack of time and attention with his father by spending quality time with his comatose body. It’s an assumption Ryouken doesn’t bother to correct. So he watches the flicker of concern pass through the man’s face, disappearing behind a mask of professionalism shortly thereafter. “And two pieces of bad news.”

Oh, that’s terrible. He’s playing into Ryouken’s love of threes, and not even kindly. Two whole pieces of bad news isn’t something he wants, and far outweighs the one piece of good news. He taps his fingers against his armrest, refraining from wrinkling his nose. “What is it?”

The scientist clicks his tongue, his eyes flickering over his father’s body again. He, Genome, and Kyouko come in once a week to check on his father’s physical condition. But that clearly isn’t enough for them. They’re all obsessed with his father’s health, with following his goals. Maybe they need to be? Maybe clinging to his father and his ideals is the only way they can face what they’ve done, because otherwise they’re monsters who tortured children. Real, innocent, children that haven't even reached their double digits in age. It’s intriguing to think about. 

And _infuriating_. 

And every sort of confusing. 

Those three scientists, and his father, are _monsters_. Ryouken has long accepted that. He’s had no choice but to accept that in his ten year journey to find what he’s looking for. He denied it, at first, desperately wanting, needing, to buy into the excuses and self justifications they told themselves. For the benefit of humanity. To save thousands, billions, of lives. What is the suffering of six compared to that?

But living with a few of their victims very, _very_ , quickly forced him to reevaluate his stance on their actions.

Ryouken is in the rather unique and painful position of caring for both the victims and the abusers in this situation. A self-inflicted hell he embraced with open arms and naive hope a long time ago, only for reality to brutally catch up to him. And now he’s stuck in the terrible and conflicting position of loving the terrible people that raised him, and the victims they tormented. Trying to balance his life between the two and walking the thin line of one side’s patience. 

“I felt it prudent to inform you immediately that we located the Dark Ignis.” Asou clicked his tongue, eyes still roaming over his father’s body.

“Ah.” Ryouken tapped his fingers against the desk, letting the rhythm play in his ears. He’s going to assume that this is the good news. Which makes him wonder what went so horribly wrong with the mission that not only did the scientist design to personally visit to deliver the news, but decide that the failure counted as two pieces of bad news. “I’m assuming things went wrong, then?”

Dr. Asou winced a bit. Ryouken doesn’t know why, he’s rarely been short with the man, even during the rare times his temper has been frayed. Then the teen wonders if maybe his father had scolded him in the Knight’s virtual headquarters upon the initial report. His father has never been anything less than compassionate to his staff, but this is the fate of humanity at stake. And more importantly, Ryouken is sure, his father’s personal greatest failure.

“It was stolen from us.” Dr. Asou’s jaw clicked, his grey eyes flickering away from the comatose man to the large windows facing the sea. His stance straightens, and his voice goes just a bit flatter as he speaks again, “Seems there’s a new player on the field.”

“New player?” Ryouken won’t lie, his interest is piqued. It shouldn’t be. Though his involvement with the Knights of Hanoi is more of a reluctant professionalism borne of a general concern for humanity than his emotional ties to the other lieutenants, he is still their technical acting leader. He should be more concerned about an unknown element throwing a wrench into their plans, especially considering the potential fallout of their failure to destroy the Ignis. But there’s a voice in his head, one that sounded an awful lot like the second victim’s voice, telling him to take all his father’s assertions with a grain of salt. And though Midori Suzukaze was no unbiased opinion, Ryouken kept the advice in mind. Which is most likely why he finds curiosity more on the forefront of his mind than rage and concern. Just who could be powerful enough to steal an Ignis from right beneath their fingertips? “Who?”

“A vigilante.” Dr. Asou actually wrinkles his nose distastefully. “He goes by the name of Playmaker, and he took down one of our best knights.”

His interest is immediately lost. His eyes flicker away from Dr. Asou, back to his screen, and he tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. A lucky vigilante isn’t cause for concern, even if he is a skilled duelist he won’t be able to stand up to the lieutenants, much less Revolver should the need arise. At most their plans have merely been delayed. “Is that all?”

“He has the Dark Ignis.” Dr. Asou reiterates, frowning deeply. “It would be wise not to underestimate him. He may not know what he has now, but should he realize…”

“He won’t have the time.” Ryouken dismisses, resting his fingered against his keyboard now, giving a few soft clicks of the keys as he goes back to work. “We’ll find him eventually. Or lure him out. He cannot escape us.”

Dr. Asou bodily turns to him, “I would advise caution nevertheless. We cannot afford to fail.”

“We won’t.” Ryouken dismisses the concern, “When we find him, and we will, we won’t hold back. I’ll duel him myself if that’s what it takes to get the Dark Ignis back.”

Those words seem to alleviate his concerns. The older man’s shoulders untense, and his expression eases. Ryouken’s eyes flicker away from him again, not wanting to have that look on him when they were standing in the room his father’s body lay in, in the house where three of the Hanoi project’s victims live. Especially not when all three of them were home. 

He hopes Suzukaze and Miyu aren’t aware Asou is in the house. Specter was a bit more amicable to his former tormentors than was perhaps healthy, but the other two were...less than welcoming to the idea of tolerating them. Especially not Suzukaze, who was friendly so long as the Knights of Hanoi were nowhere near any of them, and only barely tolerated Ryouken’s associations with them after terrible amounts of bribing and negotiation and half-truths. It’s one of the reasons he had expected to go undisturbed while he was here, none of his housemates wanted to be anywhere near his father, comatose or not. So this giant empty room, with its giant glass walls, was never filled with anything but his father and the machine that keeps him alive.

_~~And, secretly, he feels like they’re all waiting for his father to die with baited breath. Specter and Miyu don’t say so, but Suzukaze has never been dishonest about his disdain. He’s terribly honest, and even if Miyu scolded him for being, perhaps, too honest he knows she doesn’t disagree. It’s the only way either of them will feel safe again. And though Specter doesn’t say it, Ryouken knows that he feels the world and Ryouken himself will be better off without Dr. Kogami. They’re all waiting for him to be gone. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, one he can’t even blame them for.~~ _

“Is that all you wanted to discuss?” Ryouken asks. Asou’s face falls, but he doesn’t let himself feel guilty over it. The man is well aware of the tenuous position their relationship is in, and he’s very well aware of Ryouken’s mixed feelings for all the knights. Especially since the teen’s first and foremost obsession was finding all of their former victims again and bringing them back to his side. 

Especially his personal Pandora. 

Ryouken’s stomach bubbles with a strange sort of anticipation as green eyes flash in his mind once again. His skin itches in anticipation, and it suddenly dawns on him that he’ll have less time to look for the last three lost children now that his attention will be pulled towards finding this “Playmaker” on top of his normal curtsy duties towards the knights. This sours his mood significantly, any patience towards distractions from finding his lost subjects having long withered away over the past decade. His fists clench, knuckles going white as resentment towards the new vigilante thorn in his side builds. But he schools his features, unwilling to show his frustrations here and now. The knights are already openly concerned and wary of his fixation on the “lost children”, and he won’t willingly give them any more reason to try and stop him from continuing his search. 

“Yes.” Dr. Asou replies after a long pause, because he’s at least wise enough not to try and reach out here. Not in this house. Not at this time. Ryouken will probably get a phone call asking him to meet somewhere outside soon, because the concern written across the older man’s features are telling, but for now the issue is left alone. “I’ll return to my work now.”

Good. Go. Go before the others realize you’re here. Go before he has to stop Suzukaze from storming out of the house and threatening to _leave_ him. Go before Miyu goes quiet and locks herself in her room, refusing to eat or speak to him for days. Go before he has to justify to them why one of their _abusers_ is walking around the home he’d promised them would be safe and secure for them. Go before they think he’s betrayed the promises he’d made to them, and the safe and warm feeling of shelter and home he’s carefully cultivated for them over the years shatters like brittle glass.

Asou reads his silent demands and nods, backing away from him and bowing his head, “I’ll keep you updated, Ryouken.”

“Thank you.” He waves off, resting his hands on the keyboard again. He’ll most certainly get a call to meet up with the other lieutenants now, but right now he only wants Asou gone. Every ticking second he’s in the man’s presence only sours his mood further. His concentration is thoroughly destroyed, and that only makes him even worse. The scientist should have just called him, he decides. He doesn’t care what excuses there are, or if Asou wanted to check in on him. All it’s done was irritate him. 

Asou is wise enough to bow his head and silently back away, footfalls muted against the floor. The door clicks open softly, and then clicks shut. Only then does Ryouken let himself slump back against the back of his chair, letting out a long breath and rubbing his face with both hands. He lets himself stay like that for just a moment, then decides that he should probably monitor the situation and make sure Asou actually manages to get out of the house without running into anyone. So, with a slow count to three, he leans back up and moves to pull up his house’s security camera fees. 

Serval windows pop up, and he allows himself a sigh of relief when he sees that his housemates are too busy within the further reaches of their home to even notice they have a guest. Specter is too busy tending to the greenhouse, installed just for his use, and won’t be leaving it for a while by the looks of it. Further away Miyu has taken advantage of the alone time to practice her swimming in their pool, pulling off strokes that Ryouken could even be bothered to try and name. In the living room Suzukaze has taken control of the television, a game station controller in his hand, playing something he didn’t bother paying attention to, satisfied with knowing that the boy has a pair of headphones on and is thoroughly distracted by whatever story is playing out in front of him. 

Content knowing that his housemates, sans perhaps Specter, will never know of Asou’s little visit, Ryouken allows himself to relax a bit, watching the monitor lazily until the scientist’s form disappears from the house, making his way down the long stairs to the outside and out of view. And it’s only once he’s gone that Ryouken finally feels comfortable enough to relax fully. He breaths out a sigh, running both hands through his hair, shoulders easing. 

He glances towards his prone father again, grimacing and deciding that he’s not going to get any more work done in here today. So he doesn’t waste any more time, grabbing his laptop and folding it back into it’s tablet form, stretching his legs before standing and leaving the room without another glance back, letting the thick door slide shut behind him. Letting out a sigh, he moves down the hall, willing the renewed stress from his body.

He should get back to work, maybe begin looking for this “Playmaker”, but he’s sour enough to know that nothing productive will come of it. And he’s not committed enough to try anyway. Too undecided whether he believed his father’s warnings about the Ignis, and too conflicted over his own feelings for the man. He’s in this only for the chance that his father’s calculations may be correct. Because if they are…

His grip goes white knuckled, his laptop straining from the sudden harsh treatment, screen swimming and discolored for a moment. He eases the pressure in his fingers, but it seems his sour mood is dipping into downright simmering _rage_ now. Taking a deep breath, Ryouken tries to force himself to calm down. But the rage refuses to die, it only grows, soon joined by a deep sense of _loathing_. 

He jabs a finger at the screen, dragging up the files he’d hidden from Dr. Asou. Blurry green eyes appear before him, but instead of calming down they only seem to make the aggressive rage worse. The poor quality, the blurred features, all it does is remind him that the boy is out there somewhere, well out of Ryouken’s reach. He’s out there while the Ignis are loose, vulnerable to their whims. He’s out there with the Knights of Hanoi running wild. He’s out there where anyone with the right knowledge or accesses could grab him. He’s not safe.

It makes Ryouken’s blood _boil_ just thinking about it, and the protective rage simmers in his chest and turns his stomach. Three, there are still three test subjects that have yet to return home. Half of them are lost, beyond his reach because of blurry images and no names. Just dead end after dead end as the years ticked by and he was left chasing ghosts. 

It was like all the children had disappeared into thin air, one day safe and secure in the hospital, the next out of Ryouken’s reach. Even now he curses his past self for not foreseeing this, for not taking advantage of the confusion to gather as much information as he could so he could find them all again. But he supposes he couldn’t have known back then just how deeply intertwined the children would become with the Ignis. He should have foreseen it, he really should, but he’d been willfully blind, too caught up in his relief that they’d been saved, and then the despair of his father being taken away. Before he even knew what was happening he’d let them all slip away.

Then he was all **_alone_**.

Those terrible few weeks after his tip to the police had been the worst of his life. He’d been left alone in his too big house, with no one but Kyouko and Aso and Gerome, who were all busy desperately trying to cover their tracks so neither the police nor SOLtech could find them. They hadn’t had time for him, and he’d just lost his father, and his whole stomach had hollowed out in regret because this was all his fault. He’d lost everything because he couldn’t leave well enough alone and called the police and ruined the lives of everyone he’s ever loved and who had ever loved him.

Then he remembered tear filled green eyes, and he couldn’t bring himself to even regret the worst mistake of his life. All he could do was bury his face in his knees and hate himself for it. 

He’s not sure what had driven him back to the facility weeks later. Maybe he had just needed closure, maybe he just needed to remind himself that he hadn’t been wrong, that he had done the right thing, that he hadn’t ruined his and everyone’s lives for no reason. Because somewhere out there were six children whose lives he saved, and one had a pair of green eyes that would hopefully never cry again.

Finding Specter there had been life changing.

Ryouken hadn’t thought he would find anything but ghosts there. The whole building had been cleaned of software and programming, the doctors erasing anything and everything they couldn’t save before the police had swarmed the building. There should have been nothing but dust and empty rooms, haunted by the memory of screams and begging and tears. But instead he found one of the children there, curled up in the third room, face buried in his knees. Ryouken had felt his throat close, and horror had sunken in. What was he _doing_ here? He was supposed to be _safe_. They were all supposed to be _safe_. He had to be _safe_. Because if the kids weren’t safe then what was the **_point_** of ruining everything?

And it was there, kneeling in front of a scared orphan that spilled his heart from his chest, telling a story of an orphanage and a dead tree and time stopping. And all Ryouken could feel was the cold spreading through his veins and the fear settled in his heart as he realized the children were being left _alone_. They weren’t being guarded and protected, they were _alone_.

And if they left Specter alone, able to flee back to the place he was _tormented_ , then what of the others? What would happen if someone else tried to take them? What if someone else wanted to take them? What if someone else knows? If they’re taken then there was no point to anything he’d done. He’d lost his father and ruined his life for nothing. 

He wasn’t going to let it be for nothing, _couldn’t_ let it all be for nothing.

And if that meant he had to find and protect them all himself, then fine. He obviously couldn’t trust the police to do it, so he _will_. He’ll find every last one of them and keep them safe. Even if all he had of them were clinical notes and pictures too blurry for recognition. He’ll make sure no one _ever_ lays a hand on them again. So he took that lost, aimless, orphan boy and brought him home and told the doctors he was keeping him, and if they had a problem with it they could leave, legal guardians or not, and with that rage burning in his heart and green eye haunting his memories Ryouken’s path had been set.

Hacking SOLtech had proved more harmful than helpful, and he’ll never stop cursing himself for not biding his time and waiting until he was older and more experienced to breach their security. He’d barely been able to find anything before the information was lost to him forever, leaving only breadcrumbs for him to follow as the bare minimum of information was reached. He hadn’t even been able to get the names of the victims, only a few of the police involved with the rescue before everything was deleted from the database. 

His only consolation was that SOLtech had lost most of the data too. Unless they had hardware somewhere saving the data outside the network. But if they did they hadn’t seen fit to use it, yet, and Ryouken’s inside man hadn’t been able to hear tale of it. But call him paranoid, Ryouken firmly believes they have some sort of back up somewhere, they just haven’t been able to use it yet. And if it exists he will find it.

But until then he has to puzzle together a timeline from other sources, tracking down involved police and nurses and social EMT services involved. Bribing hospital janitors and cafeteria staff, casing down rumors every moment he wasn’t busy with the knights, or making sure the kids he’d found were taking their medications. He finds a lot of frustratingly dead ends and cold trails, but he thinks he’s getting close. He can feel it. He’s finally found a retired offer that was desperate and sleazy enough to take a bribe and point him in the fifth child’s direction. Soon he’d find him and, with hope, be able to convince him to come back home. And, failing that, Ryouken can at least keep an eye on him from afar, secure in the knowledge that even if the boy refuses to return to his side he’ll be safe.

_~~He hopes the fifth child comes home. He hopes they all come home.~~ _

“I’ll find you.” He promises the picture of the sixth child, hands still gripping the device in his hands tightly. “Just give me a little more time. I’m so close.”

There’s a sort of poeticism that the one child he was most fixated on was one of the ones most lost to him. He had the least clues, and the least trials, and the most deadends. If the rest of the children were ghosts, then the sixth child was just a whisper in the breeze. He was lost to the wind, with almost nothing to hold on to as he slipped through Ryouken’s fingers. Everything he’d ever found on the boy was a dead end. It’s like all files related to him have been purposely erased, with even the names of nurses and case workers lost to him.

But ten years is a long time to search for bread crumbs, and every day Ryouken gets closer to finding the right people to ask questions, and he’s a lot better at finding the right things to say than he was when he was eight. He’s closing in, he can feel it, it was only a matter of time before Pandora found his way home. 

But first Ryouken had to deal with this Playmaker, and hopefully put all the Ignis drama behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to be stopped.
> 
> Okay, but seriously, has anyone ever wondered what would have happened if instead of coping with all that loss and trauma as a child by being sorry for SAVING SIX CHILDREN'S LIVES Ryouken double down on his decision instead? Because I'm interested in exploring that. Thus, this fic. Which is actually mostly going to be Yusaku's point of view so don't get too excited. 
> 
> Anyway, my obsession with the wasted potential of the Lost Kids is showing again. But, in my defense, Vrains should have been about ALL of them. And, also, you can't give me six children that were isolated, starved, and actively mentally and physically tortured for six months and not have me explore the ramifications of such atrocities against fellow human beings, much less children in some of the most important years of their development. Not to mention the hints at just how badly the Lost Incident was handled. Like, the fact Specter was even able to run away back to the place he was tortured is telling. 
> 
> And the fact that the Lost Incident isn't more public knowledge despite all the police we've seen involved and the fact that several children went missing? Fucking bribery was involved somewhere. Seriously, those police were fucking bribed. Otherwise word would have spread. Nurses, janitorial staff, other hospital staff, social workers, they at least would have spread what happened, even if they didn't mention the children's particular identities. I smell fowl play. Especially in regards to the fact that Takeru's parents seem to have suspiciously died. 
> 
> Actually, I wonder why Takeru was taken? It seems easier just to kidnap orphans like Specter and Yusaku. Miyu might be the product of a single mother that's hinted to be overbearing, and who knows about Windy's Origin, but Jin and Takeru were not good choices if the doctors wanted the kids disappearances to go ignored by the public.
> 
> Anyway, my lack of self-control has lead me here, where I'll be doing my mad lad thing and taking Ryouken on a 90 degree turn into another direction than he was in canon while still trying to make him as canon as possible. Wish me luck there. And remember #TheLostIncidentWasTheMostPoorlyHandledBullshitEver


	2. Chapter 2

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**Exulansis** , to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it.

* * *

“ _You are a being defined by your devotion_.” Yusaku’s therapist had told him nearly half his life ago. It’s one of the things he remembered most visibly. When he thinks about that particular session he can recall nearly everything. The feel of the leather chair beneath his fingers, his small legs dangling from that same chair unable to reach the hardwood flooring, the crimson red of the walls, the old bookshelves lining the walls, the Persian carpet. He can still see his therapist clearly, a neat pressed suit, slicked back hair, cool features. Nothing about him was out of place even as he sat cross-legged, his hands folded over his knees, an easy smile on his face, voice cool and with a hint of an accent Yusaku still hasn’t heard again to this day, “Whoever was responsible for naming you did well. Wisteria, the flower of love and devotion. The symbol of luck, love, beauty, longevity, grace, immortality, victory, endurance. These are all things I’ve come to find to summarize who you’ve become.”

“I don’t even know who I am.” A younger Yusaku had looked down at his knees, body cold, kicking his legs just to have a reason not to look at his “psychiatrist”, as his social workers liked to refer to him. “How can you know who I am when even I don’t know?”

His therapist had just smiled, leaning forward a bit, “Ah, yes, you are still fretting over your lack of memory before the room.”

“I do remember…” Yusaku shook his head, a bit of blue hair falling into his eyes. He hadn’t bothered to brush it away, he felt safer not doing it. Because even at seven years old he knew that security blankets helped even if they didn’t actually do anything. “...there was a boy…”

And then he trailed off, because that’s all there had been. That boy. There was nothing else before that boy. Just a few flashes of the day he believes came just before the white room, nothing else. No family, no childhood. Just a boy, just a road. He had no past to claim as his own beyond that, and even the flashes of the boy were haunted by what would come next, because he knew that voice, and he knew that voice was never found. Whoever that boy was, beyond his voice of hope, he was still missing, gone, probably still trapped somewhere in white rooms and suffering. And no one ever believed Yusaku.

“And thus, the devotion.” The man leaned back, that pleasant smile painted on his face. He was always pleasant, and he always said things that made Yusaku feel like he was digging into the very reaches of his soul and digging out his darkest secrets to lay bare on the table. Then again, he’s been seeing Dr. Lecter for a while now, ever since Den City’s Social Fostering Program decided he was one of the few people they trusted to act as a fully disclosed therapist for a victim of the Lost Incident, specially hired and flown all the way from another country just for his expertise. “You do not even have a name, or many features, but you’ve devoted yourself wholly to the memory of this boy.”

It was the nicest way anyone had ever told him he was obsessed with something, and the younger him at least appreciated the attempt. Back then he had trusted this adult, so he felt thankful even. Though he wondered if devoted wholly were the right word to describe the fear and hope that clung to the memory. “I...there’s nothing else. I’m…”

“You’re what, Mr. Fujiki?” He leaned forward, genuinely curious. “Tell me, what are you if not devoted to this memory?”

“I…” The young Yusaku’s brows had knitted together, his stomach churning as he tried to find the words that described the complexity and overwhelming expanse of the emotions that encompassed his very soul. “...he’s...the reason I’m alive.”

“So you’ve stated before.” The doctor leaned back again, brown eyes trained on Yusaku with sharp and calculating intensity. “You’ve used his advice of repeating and naming threes as a coping mechanism for your trauma. It has, effectively, become your survival mantra during times of great physical and emotional distress.”

“Yes.” Yusaku had nodded, grip tightening on his knees, green eyes unable to hold the intensity in his therapist’s gaze. So he looked down, wanting to hide from those calculating orbs that knew too much about him. “It’s how I made it out alive. It’s how I have a future at all. He gave me the strength to get up and move forward.” 

“But you aren’t moving forward.” Dr. Lecter told him. Yusaku jerked in place, gaze snapping up to meet his doctor’s eyes, widened and startled by the news. 

He knew he wasn’t doing a good job getting over what happened, but he didn’t think… “What?”

“Tell me, Mr. Fujiki, what is the difference between the future and the past?” Dr. Lecter asked kindly, tilting his head slightly. “At what point does the past end and the future begin for you?”

It was a hard question to answer, especially since he knew that Dr. Lecter knew he had no memory of before the white room. So Yusaku had struggled for a good while, words stumbling out of his lips, “I don’t...I...there is no past. I don’t have one anymore, they took it.”

“And that’s quite terrible.” The man stated, tapping his finger against his knee, “And the problem. It has been a year since you were freed from the facility that held you prisoner, yet you still seem to consider it your present rather than part of the past.”

The words had hit like a blow, especially since they were right. Yusaku let out a shuddering breath, heart twisting painfully as he felt raw and exposed. “How can I move past it? I’m trying Dr. Lecter, but how can I? It’s...it’s like time has stopped. Like…”

“Like you never left that room?” The blonde guessed, and it was another strike, another blow to a young boy's raw and abused heart. “Like you’re still trapped there?”

The ghost pains of electric shocks had trickled over the ugly scars on his skin. His fingers twitched, and his eyes teared up, because at the time Dr. Lecter had been one of the few people he had trusted to open himself up to. “I don’t have a past without them Dr. Lecter, they took everything I have, and if I move on from them I’ll have nothing. I’m trapped still, in that room, as one of six kids. And I can’t escape, because without those memories I just...disappear.”

Dr. Lecter frowned for the first time during the meeting at those words, “Do you believe that is another source of your devotion to this boy? Because he’s the only source of good before you were freed?”

“I don’t know.” Yusaku had admitted. Maybe that was it, but that explanation hadn’t felt correct either. That voice had been everything that was hope, the driving motivation behind life, the light that brought him back from the brink of death. And he had followed it willingly, because it had saved him, he had saved Yusaku. And Yusaku wanted to thank him, to express the deep and complete gratitude for showing him that there was still something to hope for in a moment where he was ready to give up, that there was still good in this world even at his darkest moments.

He wanted to say thank you.

But, most importantly, he hadn’t wanted anyone to suffer what he did. So he looked up, staring his therapist in the eyes and asked, “How can I move on knowing they’re still out there? Knowing they might still have him?”

“Another example of your endless love and devotion.” His therapist hummed to himself, leg kicking a bit, “You cannot move on knowing that your abusers may still have him, even for your own good, even with no sign or evidence they ever even had him in the first place and your mind wasn't simply conjuring illusions for your survival. You are completely, utterly, and tragically ruled by your love for others.”

The young child inhaled sharply.

“I would liken you to the tale of Orpheus and his wife Eurydice.” The man settled his heavy gaze on Yusaku. “Just as I believe you, too, would willfully walk the bowels of hell in the name of love, I also believe the only way you will ever allow _yourself_ to escape will be in love’s name, following in the path they lead. Mr. Fujiki, and I’m quite afraid you’ll ever find peace without closure regarding this boy. And to find closure, you must accept either he is forever beyond your reach, he never existed in the first place.”

It was the most honest thing he’d heard from any adult since he’d been saved from the white room, and Yusaku never forgot it. 

He hasn’t been to see a therapist since the tragic outcome of his sessions with Dr. Lecter, never quite able to bring himself to trust another psychologist or psychiatrist again. After the betrayal he’d experienced at those hands. But even to this day he thinks he learned a lot about himself from their therapy sessions, things he never let go, because for all the man was trying to groom SOLtech’s agenda into him, he was also genuinely trying to help Yusaku, in his own twisted and darkly affectionate way. He even seemed to think himself as something of a father figure. 

Not that he needed a family, not after his experience. All he’d learned from that “family” was how to safely sweep up the glass shattered pieces of his heart and lock it away behind a thick wall of apathy and disinterest. If Dr. Lecter was what having a father was like, then he wanted nothing to do with it. And from what little time he knows about his biological parents, he had been better off being abandoned to the foster system as a babe. 

Still, even with the destain he carries for the man, that particular session continues to stick out in his mind, because it was a marked lesson in who he was and what he wanted from the future. And though his decision to take back his life from those who took it from him would come for another three years, that day in Dr. Lecter’s office had been the stepping stones that would eventually lead to his decision. 

“Hey, Fujiki.” Someone poked him in the arm. He had to keep from hissing in pain, the sensitive skin not used to contact. “You asleep again?”

_“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, Social Anxiety, Touch-Starvation, Allodynia, Chronic Fatigue.”_ Comes the ghost whispers name his multiple diagnosis, and he doesn't even have any of his pills with him.

Yusaku peered up from where he’d been resting his head in his arms, peering up at the intruder. That green haired classmate peered down at him, an annoyed scold on his face. The boy scoffed, scratching the back of his head, “I can’t believe you! You’re going to fail if you keep this up.”

He didn’t bother responding, neither having the energy, patience, or caring to explain himself to a classmate. So he silently sits up, observing the room and finding that class had ended during his sleep. 

Standing up, he moved around the supposedly concerned classmate, the silken material of his uniform brushing against his skin as he moved, leaving ignited trails of pinprick pain behind. It isn’t overwhelming today, not a good day by any stretch, but not a bad one either. 

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” The classmate called out, jogging after him. Yusaku almost raised an eyebrow, wondering what he wanted. He’s been careful not to interact with any of his classmates before this, not wanting nor caring to risk trusting strangers, nor willing to form bonds with those that would only distract him from his mission. And, more importantly, he can’t allow room for another heartbreak in his life. He’s already tired, and what energy he has left needs to be devoted to bringing his abusers to justice and taking back his life. 

For Jin, for Shouichi, for _himself_.

“What do you want?” He asks, glancing back at the classmate. It takes more energy than he’d thought. Speaking to people in general was exhausting, but this guy was bouncy and energetic, which only made it more tiring to try and force out the words. So he’s usually blunt and to the point, something that hasn’t won him points with others in the past, but that’s just fine by him. 

“You’re such an asshole, holy fuck.” The boy breathes, falling into step beside Yusaku. Uh, strange, normally when people say that they leave shortly after, but this boy is staying. He seemed strangely determined at he stared up at Yusaku, eyes glinting, “So, did’ya hear the latest gossip?”

“No.” Yusaku answers plainly, because he doesn’t have time for petty schoolyard drama. He needs to get to Cafe Nagi and get to work tracking down the knights and fixing Ai’s data. There's little time to spend worrying over other people when he's skirting the line of poverty and trying to find justice.

“Of course you didn’t.” The boy scoffs, tsking loudly and shaking his head head smugly. “You need to start paying attention to this kind of stuff Fujiki, or else something big and life changing will happen and you’ll never even notice.”

Yusaku sighed, already exhausted. That’s the kind of thing his social worker used to say before Den City finally decided to give him a monthly deposit and let him live on his own at thirteen. Then he never had to see the bubbly woman and was happier for it. And he knows, secretly, she was glad she didn’t have to deal with him anymore. Yusaku was one of those difficult kids in the system, one that got passed off from home to home like some sort of fruit cake or cheap bottle of wine. Too traumatized to legally be left in the orphanage, too difficult for all the foster families to handle. The longest he’d been in a home was seven months before the family decided they couldn’t deal with the nightmares and the pills and the therapy and the not knowing why. The shortest time had been a week. Somewhere between them he learned to become used to being abandoned, and his social worker's perky optimism became more and more strained until he learned to associate it with nativity and false hope.

“Playmaker and Go dueled yesterday.” His classmate grins, practically vibrating with the news. Then, and only then, does Yusaku remember this is the Vrain’s obsessed classmate that has been trying to get him to join the duel club. Shima he thinks his name is. “It was amazing.”

It was a waste of time. He’s happy enough that, apparently, the duel helped Go through...something that Yusaku can’t even begin to understand, but he really doesn’t have the time or mental and physical energy to devote such public breakdowns. He doesn’t enjoy dueling in the first place, the entire process doing nothing reminding him of the white room. Every time he duels it’s like he’s back there, and every time he takes damage in the duel his heart shutters in his chest, his thoughts irrationally believing that he’s just that much closer to punishment. Then the fern-like scars that spread ghost white down his neck and arms throbs with phantom pains. Every duel leaves him drained and exhausted, and he doesn’t want to keep wasting what energy he manages to muster thinking he’s fighting a knight of Hanoi only to find he’d been tricked because of some sort of strange, inexplicable, one-sided rivalry. “I’m sure it was.”

“It really was!” Shima sounds like a man in love, practically swooning on his feet as he follows Yusaku off the school grounds. “Go is such an inspiring showman! And Playmaker is the coolest ever!”

That’s another thing, he doesn’t understand the sudden, inexplicable, popularity his avatar seems to have gained from dueling the knight. He knows, logically, that he saved Vrains, but he also has a bad attitude that he doesn’t bother to hide, one that made him remarkably less popular with the general public in the real world. But he supposes it’s more the mystery that attracts people than anything. He came seemingly out of nowhere and pulled off an impressive feat before disappearing. Thinking of it like that, he feels a bit better about the strange hero worship. So he hums, hoping that’s enough sign that he’d heard Shima’s point, and then proceeds to stop wasting energy paying attention to the boy. Not that he notices, because he just keeps on and on talking the whole walk, never once even pausing for a breath.

Doesn’t this boy have something better to do? Why is he following _Yusaku_ of all people?

Whatever the reason, Shima followed him the whole way to the city square that Shoichi liked to park the van when he needed a bit more money. Den City paid the bulk of Jin’s hospital bills for the most part, but the sheer amount of medication and care the boy needed left his brother in a tight spot at times. Not to mention the fees it took to keep the truck running and upkeep their equipment. Before they’d met, Shoichihad even lived in the truck, preferring to save money by living out of the back then paying for an apartment. It was only after meeting and realizing he could scold Yusaku into “taking better care of yourself kid, jezz” that he even bothered moving into one.

Not that Yusaku was much better. He’s living in a one room shithole in between a drunk he’s half convinced has never once been sober in his life, and an elderly man that suspiciously never seems to be home except on the day that rent is due.

But that ultimately doesn’t matter, Cafe Nagi is set up right in it’s usual spot facing the big screens, Shoichi already manning the grill and serving customers. Yusaku sighs, wishing that the truck was set up on the beachfront property instead. The customers there were quiet, and it was a lot more peaceful. The oceanfront was nice, and the sounds strangely calming, reminding him of the white noise in the headphones the nurses used to give him back when the world seemed too loud. It was a lot more bearable than the city square for sure, and the customers never bothered to stick around the tables on the boardwalk for long, preferring to head back down to the shoreline. Shoichi liked to park the truck there on Yusaku’s bad days, almost having a near psychic ability to sense when it was needed.

Oh well, no use wasting time thinking about it. Yusaku moves forward, walking towards the truck and weaving through the crowd, finding the most empty table near the truck and settling into the nearest seat. 

Unfortunately, Shima follows. “Jeez you jerk! I told you to wait for me!”

Yusaku hums, pulling out his laptop from his bag. He catches Shouich’s eyes from his place, setting up the computer waiting for his opportunity to work. His partner sees him, giving a discreet nod before going back to grilling his hotdogs. That leaves Yusaku alone to deal with Shima who, to his bafflement, has taken a seat next to him.

“So this is what you do after school?” Shima asked, looking around and then up at the big screen where they usually display Vrains events. He makes a disbelieving noise, sounding personally offended. “I can’t believe you don’t know anything about Vrains!”

“I don’t watch.” He says, turning towards his computer. He’s not willing to risk opening up his work while Shima is watching. While Yusaku is sure that he wouldn’t understand most of the coding he does, it’s best to be cautious and not underestimate possible threats. Shima is still a student at a top technology school in a city known for its advancement in software.

“So, what? You just come here for the food truck?” Shima turns to narrow his eyes at Cafe Nagi suspiciously. “Do you know the owner or something like that?”

It’s none of his business, so Yusaku hums, turning back to look at his screen. It seems to him he won’t be able to work on tracking down this “Revolver” until the crowd dies down enough for him to make his way to the back of the truck. It’s irksome, but it can’t be helped. Revolver would simply have to wait for now, Yusaku was too busy trying to keep his identity intact, least someone with a little a filter as Shima find out and get them both targeted by Hanoi and SOLtech both. The last thing he needed was to end up in either of their custody. Who knows what either one of them would do if they got their hands on he and Jin again. He doesn't trust that the both of them wouldn't end up right back in a white room. That's why he's stripped both of their digital trails and hidden their records as much as possible. If either Hanoi or SOLtech want to find them, then he wouldn't make it easy for them, and he wouldn't go quietly.

He's sure Revolver is absolutely heartbroken.

“You’re so fucking rude.” Shima sighed, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his cheeks between his hands. “Why am I even friends with you?”

“We’re not friends.” Yusaku tells him bluntly, going back to his computer. If Shima is going to bother him, then he might as well get his homework done and justify the scholarship the school is granting him. His teachers don’t give a shit about his sleeping as long as he keeps his grades up, at least. 

“So rude, holy Jack Atlas.” Shima laments loudly, leaning back in his seat. “See, this is why I’m your only friend. You’re such a jackass.”

If he means to hurt Yusaku with those words, it doesn’t work. The boy knows very well who he is, and he knows how little people regard him. He’s known that since he was seven years old, after one foster home too many. And it’s something he’s learned to accept after Dr. Lecter. He is, inherently, a broken excuse of a human being. He’s too much effort to be worth caring about, and too unlikable to be guilty over abandoning, and that’s completely fine with him. Shoichi stood as the one exception to that rule, and even then their relationship was born out of mutual benefit, desire for revenge, and Shouichi’s experience with his brother. “Then why are you here? I’m sure you have things to do.”

“Because friends hang out, Fujiki.” Shima tells him flatly, like he’s scolding a dumb child. “You probably don’t know that since you’re such an asshole and probably scare them all away, but lucky for you my mama ain’t raise no quitter.”

Yusaku decides to ignore him after that, absentmindedly returning to his homework while Shima turns to the giant screens and starts to ramble on about whatever charisma duelist is on the screen at the moment. The homework is easy, and doesn’t take long to get through, so he finds his mind wandering to more important things. 

Like his strange, inexplicable, connection to the digital realm.

He can feel an almost thrumming sensation from his duel disk, and he knows Ai is growing impatient within. He’s not entirely sure how he’s so aware, but he is. Likely a mix of this strange connection and Ai being such an open book with his emotions. It’s taken very, very, little time for Yusaku to become familiar with the AI’s moods.

Eventually, Shima bores of his presence, running out of things to say for the day and declaring that it was time for him to go home, and that he would see him at school tomorrow before departing. Yusaku watches him go, making absolute sure the boy wasn’t about to turn around and return his baffling attention to him before finally feeling satisfied he was gone. With that finally handed, and homework done, he stands up, bee-lining to the back of the truck and letting himself inside. 

“Finally!” Ai pops up almost instantly the moment he’s settled at the back console, gaze rolling over Yusaku, “I thought that guy would never leave! I was starting to feel pretty suffocated!” 

Yusaku feels an inexplicable pang of protectiveness surge through his heart. It’s irrational, unexpected, and equally unwanted. But it’s there, and it’s been there since the moment he’d first spoken to Ai. But there’s a pull between him and Ai, and no matter how he fights the feeling it sticks to his heart like an unwanted tumor. So he’s twice as snappish with Ai than he is with anyone else, fueled by his own mistrusting nature, the need to shield his heart, and the knowledge that he couldn’t truly trust a creature with no true sentience. Ai was a program, and everything about him was planned and predetermined, not something he should feel protective over. And his strange, instinctual, need to almost dote on him was nothing short of irrational. Perhaps a result of his loneliness? Humans are social animals, and they tend to imprint on anything when devoid of contact. Yusaku actually purchased Roboppy for just that reason. Though the fondness he has for his Maidbot is far from the almost maternal instinct he seems to be developing for Ai, an instinct that only seems to be growing worse and worse every second that ticks by between them.

‘ _You are defined by your love of others_.’ He hears the ghost of an accented voice in his ears. But Yusaku brushes it off and discards it like an unwanted cloth, because that voice was nothing but a tragic backstory, and he’s outgrown it. 

“Quiet.” Yuasku demands, taking his duel disk off and pushing it aside. He turns to the console, ready to begin the actual work he needs to do in order to fix Ai’s memory and find out the information he needs. Hopefully he’ll be able to make up for the last time everyone seems to be determined to put him through as of late. 

Ai whines loudly, complaining bitterly and dramatically about how cold he is. Shoichi’s eyes flicker back to them, and his lips twitch upward. Yusaku knows he’s also developing a dangerous fondness for the AI as well. He shouldn’t be surprised, given his heart extends far enough that he could care for a broken and worthless person like him, but it’s still dangerous.

But he also trusts Shoichi to be able to handle the emotional fallout of whatever is to come, so he ignores it. Right now his mind needs to focus on breaking through SOLtech security to find out who he needs to hunt down. He needs to find this mysterious leader of Hanoi who's been tearing apart the network and hunting down Ai. 

He sucks in a deep breath, fingers tapping at the keyboard rhythmically. The skin all over his body pinpricks with ticklish pains, leaving trails of goosebumps behind. The movement makes his uniform rub strangely, but it’s the most comfortable clothing he owes, so he doesn’t bother changing. Soon he’s able to almost disassociate from his body, attention fully captured by his work even with Ai trying desperately to demand his attention.

It’s their new pattern, and it goes on for hours just like that. Eventually, Shoichi closes down the cafe and starts cleaning the grill for the night. It’s a quiet thing, filled only with Ai’s laments that even talking to Roboppy was better than Yusaku, and Shouichi’s lighthearted bantering as he indulges the attention seeking child. It’s peaceful, almost comforting in how mundane it is. 

It’s strange, this pattern they’ve fallen into.

And Ai is a clingy thing, as affection starved as Yusaku, but as unwilling to hide it as the teen was to indulge it. He imagined that, if Ai had a body of his own right now, the thing would cling to him like a leech, drinking in whatever he could get. Whoever designed him that way clearly has issues with unrequited affection to work through.

“You might be able to break through security.” Shoichi determines as he joins Yusaku, done with the food service business for the day and ready to join in their more illegal activities. He picks up easily enough, slipping right into place and picking up a good chunk of the work. “You might have an in with Zaizen.”

He hums, considering. It’s worth trying, though he knows very well that if charisma were needed then he would fail simply by approaching his target. But observation never hurt, and he could learn a great deal about Zaizen Akira simply by observing his sister and their relationship. It’s not something Yusaku is particularly looking forward to, but it has to be done.

It’s hardly the worst thing in the world, he doesn’t even have to speak to her if he is observant enough. 

Hours later, it’s Shoichi that calls for an end to their work, stretching his arms above his head and yawning loudly, “Alright, that’s enough for tonight. You’ve got school tomorrow, and I need some shut eye.”

Yusaku hums, not looking away from the screen even as his fingers come to a stop. “Then we’ll continue this tomorrow.”

“Geez, about time.” Ai cried, eye rolling in circles around the duel disk. “I thought you two would never be done. Yusaku’s got school in four hours!”

Ai sounded how Yusaku imagined a scolding mother would sound. It seems like a waste of time and energy to him, Ai should know very well by now that the chances he had of sleeping tonight were nonexistent. Then again, he supposes a computer program doesn’t really have energy to burn. 

“I’ll drive you home.” Shoichi shrugs, moving to the front of the truck. Yusaku feels the vehicle come to life beneath his feet, the whole thing vibrating through his body and making his pin-pricked skin sing. He hums to cover a groan, shutting his eyes and pretending to nap, “Thank you, Kusanagi.”

“No problem kid.” Shoichi hums, pulling off onto the road.

There’s still a lot of work to do before he can break into SOL’s network security and track down Hanoi’s knights, but the hum of the engine and the easy chatter between Ai and Shoichi make it seem less far away somehow. It eases his frayed nerves, and the strange connection he feels with the AI thumbs in his head softly, like a warm blanket over his skin. It’s strange, feeling this way, something he has had for a long, long, time. As long as he remembers. It’s filling, in a way, easy, almost comfortable.

He thinks this is what it feels like to be safe.

He’s not sure he likes it.

~~_He’s not sure he deserves it._ ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Holds up hands] I swear this isn't a crossover, and you won't see Hannibal Lecter of all people crashing this fic. I just used his name because it's easily recognizable name connected to a known fucky psychologist and I wanted to highlight just how far SOLtech went to fuck up the six victim's lives even after they were rescued from Hanoi's facility. 
> 
> I really do fully believe they would purposely fuck with these kid's therapists just to gaslight them and further erase evidence though. Any psychologist for these kids would HAVE to know what happened to these kids in order to be any sort of effective, and that means they'd have to be specialized, per-approved, and under strict contract considering how much SOLtech did to completely cover up and erase the Lost Incident from being public knowledge in an age of instant communication. So I fully believe that a small part of the reason Yusaku and the others had such a difficult time recovering was because they were either given ineffective therapy, or downright harmful therapy. In this particular fic I went for the latter and downright Abigail Hobbs-ed Yusaku. (If you don't understand that reference, please watch Hannibal on Netflix. If you do understand that reference, then I'm sorry you watched Hannibal.)
> 
> As for Yusaku's connection to Ai? Well, once again, Vrains, you should have actually given me more detail on how their Link Sense works assholes. 
> 
> But, for real though, I'm fascinated by the relationship between the Ignis and their Origins. Can you imagine what it must be like to be the Ignis? They were literally born from the emotional highs and lows of children being tortured during one of the most important times of their development, and that was probably the first things they ever witnessed. Imagine being born, and the first thing you see is the person you were CREATED FROM in constant and unending agony. That must have fucked them up quite badly, and also explains what we've seen of their deep desire to either possess their Origins (Lightning), or their protectiveness of them (Flame, Aqua, Ai). The outliers of course being Windy, who was actively brainwashed, and Earth, who COULDN'T meet Specter for very obvious reasons. But, shit man, I'd be protective too.
> 
> I know Ai canonically falls in love with Yusaku in the series (I still can't believe Vrains was that brave, you go Vrains. You did a lot wrong, but I stan), but for this fic I think I'm going to develop it into more of familial role because of the Butterfly Effect change. But expect to see a lot of clingy behavior from Ai because of the above reasons. You don't fuck with Ai's mom!
> 
> On that note, I'm putting Yusaku through hell again because I'm me. And also because you can't put a child through six months worth of isolation, starvation, and repeated electrocution without fucking up their health on top of their psychology. The nerve damage alone would cause chronic pain. Not to mention the touch-starvation that would develop, Yusaku seems to display chronic fatigue and lack of appetite, possibly weather sensitivity. I don't care what the animators say, those kids probably have a few electrical burn scars at the very least. The fact Yusaku and the others are doing as well as they are possibly shows just how much advanced medical care they've received, possibly from SOLtech again. 
> 
> Yusaku this whole chapter: I am, objectively, inherently unlovable.  
> Ryouken, Shoichi, Ai, Roboppy, the Zaizen siblings, Emma, the rest of the Lost Kids, and Shima: I've only had Yusaku for one day, but if anything were to happen to him I would destroy all of Vrains and then myself.  
> Yusaku: ...why?  
> Ai: [With tears in his eyes] I will yeet this world into the sun for you. I'll do it man. That's canon. I'll suicide run that shit to protect you. Don't fuck with me man. I stan one boi. I am screetching. Don't fuck with me. I'll floor it asshole. I'll beat a bitch for talking shit about you. Come over here you beautiful son of a bitch. We're fighting. I love you so much.
> 
> Someone save these fucking kids from me.
> 
> Someone not Dr. Lecter, you stay away from Yusaku.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr in order to waste your time and sometimes get speculations: https://msbluebell.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for gaslighting and unconsensual drug use. This is also pre self-aware Roboppy, so he's going to be referred to with she/her pronouns for now since 1) we all thought that at first admit it, and 2) I assume Maidbots are designed to be seen as default female, and 3) Yusaku has very few notable women in his life at this point so he low-key made a mom. Once Roboppy gains more self-awareness we give him his preferred pronouns.

* * *

_**Saudade**_ , the deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and loves.

* * *

  
  
_“You will never overcome your fears unless you confront them.” Dr. Lecter pats his upper back, warm hand making the skin tingle even through Yusaku’s jacket. He’s not used to touch anymore, and it makes him shiver every time Dr. Lecter lets this brief contact happen, uncommon as it was._

_“How do I confront them?” A twelve year old Yusaku asks. By this point he’s been seeing the psychiatrist for six years now, and he hasn’t made much in the way of progress. The nightmares still come every night, and the fear that his kidnappers will return is ever present. He’s tired, and his face doesn’t make expressions anymore, but he still hangs all his hopes that this will change on the man before him. Because Dr. Lecter has been the only constant in his life for the past few years, the only one that hasn’t abandoned him yet._

_“I have a method…” Dr. Lecter’s hand is still on his upper back, and it’s all Yusaku can focus on. The older man looks uncomfortable, and the young boy wonders what he’s done wrong now, because that’s the same look his foster parents always have before they give him up. “...but you won’t like it.”_

_“I’ll do anything.” Yusaku breaths, because he’s at his wits end. They’ve finally run out of foster homes for him, and he doesn’t know what else to do. His social worker is keeping him in her house while she scrambles to figure something out. Six years and dozens of homes and he’s finally run out of chances, and he needs to do something before they finally give up on him. “I can’t live like this anymore Dr. Lecter. They’ve run out of foster homes, and they can’t put me in an orphanage. I don’t know what they’re going to do to me, but this is my last shot.”_

_Dr. Lecter’s jaw squares, and Yusaku feels his grip tighten a bit._

_“Tell me, Mr. Fujiki…” The man looks him in the eye, “Do you trust me?”_

_The question makes Yusaku suck in a sharp breath, because trust was hard. It’s been impossibly hard ever since he’d been saved from that white room. It makes his skin itch just thinking about putting himself in such a vulnerable position again, because he could wake up in that white room again. But he’s known Dr. Lecter for years, and the man has seen the worst of him and still hasn’t left yet. He’s been the only stable adult in Yusaku’s young life so far, so who else in the world could the boy trust more than him? So, with his heart in his hands, Yusaku takes that leap of faith and finally decides for certain, “Yes.”_

_"Then, perhaps, it is time we open Pandora's Box and finally free all the evils within you." Dr. Lecter squeezed his shoulder._

_And time must have passed, because suddenly there’s a cup of tea in his hands. Yusaku peers into the dainty little cup, amber liquid reflecting his eyes back at him. He’s not a big tea drinker, even if Dr. Lecter is. He’s only had a few cups with the man in all the years since they started his therapy, but it’s usually some form western tea that smells flowery. This was different in a way Yusaku couldn’t quite put his finger on._

_“This treatment is a bit unorthodox.” Dr. Lecter tells him, sitting cross legged on his chair, hands folded over his knees, “But I assure you, hypnotism is very common. Now drink your tea, Mr. Fujiki, else you’ll be nauseous. We are going to some very repressed places in your mind.”_

_“This tea is different.” Yusaku frowns, trying to smell it. It was earthy and strange._

_“Ginger is good for the stomach.” Dr. Lecter smiles, “I’m surprised one of your foster mothers haven’t had you drink ginger tea before, I’m told it helps with monthly pains.”_

_“I haven’t started that yet.” Yusaku squirms in his seat, because he doesn’t like thinking about his body and the thoughts that would happen to it soon. So he sips his tea instead, trying to avoid the topic. But it’s...strange._

_“Now.” Dr. Lecter begins when he’s done with his cup. “Shall we open the box?”_

_Yusaku thinks maybe he should say something, except he can’t, because his words feel too heavy. Or maybe his tongue. He doesn’t know. So he tries to nod instead, except that now Dr. Lecter has antlers. And soon he’s not in his therapist’s office anymore. No, he’s in a room, and the room has six chairs, and he’s sitting in one. There are other kids, but he can’t see their faces. He only sees a few details; a girl with pigtails, a boy with fizzling marker lines obscuring the air in front of his face like someone tried to scratch it out, another faceless boy with red and grey hair, another whose face was only half occurred so Yusaku could see a wide smile, and finally a boy whole body was entirely blacked out._

_“Where am I?” He asks the kids surrounding him in their circled chairs._

_“What do you see, Mr. Fujiki?” His therapist is suddenly there, almost stepping out of the shadows, except he’s a monster with huge teeth now._

_“There’s a bunch of kids here.” He answers, looking around, “But they won’t talk to me.”_

_“A repressed memory, perhaps?” The doctor hums, “Who are they, Mr. Fujiki?”_

_“The others.” He answers, but he doesn’t know what that means. And before he can think too hard on it his head starts to hurt. The world goes fuzzy, and it starts to glitch. It glitches, and glitches, and then he’s in the white room again._

_It hasn’t changed, the white room, not at all. And it’s just as terrifying as it’s ever been. So he screams, or he tries, but no sounds are leaving his mouth. So he stands there in muted horror, terror making every part of him ache, and he forgets how to breath at first._

_“This place cannot hurt you, Mr. Fujiki, because it is not real.” He hears Dr. Lecter’s voice, but he doesn’t see it. “It was never real and never has been. It cannot hurt you unless you let it.”_

_He’s trapped. He’s trapped, he’s trapped, he’s trapped. Every part of him aches and burns, and his stomach twists horribly inside. He’s so hungry that even his fingers look yummy, but he doesn’t want to know what would happen if he tried to cheat. He already tried to find a door before, and he had been given even worse shocks than his punishments for the effort. He tried to ride the food drone out, but he was too heavy even after months of little food. There’s no way out, and no one coming for him. And...and…_

_The world glitches, and he’s standing with the boy._

_“It’s you.” He finds his voice again, cracked and raw with emotion. The boy’s face is a shadow, but he recognizes the hair, and the jacket._

_“Mr. Fujiki?” Dr. Lecter’s voice cuts in, sounding alarmed. “You shouldn’t be with anyone right now. You need to go back to the room.”_

_“I’ve been looking for you.” He ignores the doctor, looking at the boy. He hasn’t changed at all, and Yusaku has gotten bigger. It feels odd, but he’s so happy that he doesn’t care. “I’ve had something I wanted to say to you for a long time.”_

_“Mr. Fujiki, he’s not real, he never was.” Dr. Lecter’s voice is like an echo in the back of his mind. “That boy doesn’t exist, he was a coping mechanism. You need to face the root of your problem.”_

_“I don’t know where you are.” Yusaku tells the boy, looking down at him blankly, trying to make this mean something while he can. “And if they have you trapped somewhere...I’m sorry I left you there.”_

_“Mr. Fujiki, don’t trust him.” Dr. Lecter’s voice urges. “He is not how you will overcome the white room. You can only do that yourself.”_

_“I know.” Yusaku tells the doctor, “But...I have more to say first.”_

_The shadow faced boy tilts his head as Dr. Lecter protests. But Yusaku doesn’t care, because he’s waited for this moment for a long, long, time._

_“Thank you for saving me.” He breaths, relief flooding his heart. “And...if you really are the one who put me in that room...then I forgive you.”_

_“Mr. Fujiki?”_

_“I forgive you.” Yusaku breaths, feeling his eyes well up with tears._ _"I forgive you."  
_ _  
_

* * *

The blue haired boy gasps awake, throwing himself up and sucking in too much cold air at once, making his lungs burn and ache. Every part of him is screaming, skin throbbing with pain, like he’s been hooked by fish hooks and they’re trying to reel him in, ripping him apart bit by bit. He clutches his chest, fingers twisting against the soft material of his pajamas, feeling his heart drum against his chest. He focuses on breathing, forcing himself to calm down before finally cracking open his eyes. 

Once his heart calms down, and breathing doesn’t cause him pain, he glances over towards Ai’s pedestal, feeling the hostage’s gaze burn on him. It’s surprisingly silent, considering it’s default nature seems to be the inability to remain quiet in all other forms of life. But the eyeball says nothing now, simply watching him.

Over in the corner, Roboppy seems to have already dislodged herself from her charger. Now she’s rolling around on her little wheels, head tilting upwards, “Good morning master! It is 5:24. Did you have a good sleep?”

“He obviously didn’t, you big dummy!” Ai’s irritated voice cuts through the air, the eyeball seeming to narrow thinly inside the duel disk. “I cannot stand how _stupid_ you are right now.”

“That is a forbidden word.” Roboppy looks up, her face conveying her motherly disappointment through a series of emojis. Yusaku watched tiredly, the bags under his eyes feeling sensitive to the still air. 

“Your shoddy AI is forbidden!” Ai bit back, groaning at the limitations of Roboppy’s intelligence and programming. For a small, irrational, moment he almost felt the need to defend the small Maidbot, because her AI was actually much more advanced considering her age. She was, perhaps, not as up to date as the latest Maidbots, but Yusaku had heavily personalized her when he had scrambled together enough of his savings and bought her. She had been a model years out of date by then, one of the unlucky ones that wasn’t sold before the latest update, and he’d picked her up from a discount electronics store on sale, and she was pristine and new when she wheeled herself out of the box and started vacuuming. Before he updated her software she hadn’t been able to do much, just tell the time and look up the weather. Now she has a working knowledge of his schedule, could clean out her own vacuum, and she acts as something of a minder to him, reminding him to take his medications on time because he tends to forget. 

But he also didn’t have the heart, or the energy, to send Ai into a world of abject despair and horror by informing him that Robboy’s AI was advanced for her model. 

“Master! School does not begin for two hours and thirty-four minutes!” Roboppy, not seeing a need to respond to Ai’s rather loud lamenting about the limitations of her intelligence, turning her little head and rolling towards his bed. “Does master require medication for pain?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t know if today is going to be a good day or a bad day, but right now it’s unbearable. He should probably save his pain medications for later, but he doesn’t think he’ll be getting back to sleep anytime soon, so he might as well get up and get ready for school. He’s in pain, but it’s not his worst, he thinks. So he’s not going to waste his limited skip days. The school was more lenient on him than other students thanks to his medical situation, but he would rather save those days for emergencies or when dealings within Vrains leaks over into life. 

“Here you go master!” Roboppy opens the compartment in her belly where she keeps miniaturized versions of his medication bottles next to the vacuum compartment. She holds up the bottle of pain medication between her two mitten-themed hands, rolling up to the side of the bed and holding it up as high as her small arms could manage. “Be sure to drink water with your medication!”

  
  
“You keep pills in your vacuum?” Ai complains, and Yusaku doesn’t know if he’s berating him for trusting Roboppy with the medication or Roboppy for where she keeps them stored. Either way, he goes ignored as the teen takes the bottle and swallows what he needs, without the water. Roboppy tuts, watching him until she’s sure that they’re in his system. He carelessly tosses the bottle on the floor after, and she makes a fuss as she rolls after it.

“So...pain pills, huh?” Ai starts after a long moment of silence rolls over the apartment. Yusaku sighs, standing from the bed and letting his bare feet hit the floor. He wonders for a moment if all this noise is bothering his neighbor through the paper thin walls, but then again, he’s probably passed out. 

“What? You’re not _getting up_ are you?” Ai sounds confused, eye narrowing again. “Aren’t you humans supposed to be in bed all the time when they’re in pain?”

It’s none of Ai’s business whether or not Yusaku does things when he’s in pain, so Yusaku ignores him. He walks to the closet, sliding the door open to reveal his meager wardrobe. It’s not much at all; three pairs of his school uniform, two pairs of jeans he’s had for a few years now, two t-shirts from Cafe Naji that Shoichi had given him as a gift, the binder a foster sister had gotten him behind her mother’s back that's now too small for him, a binder that actually fits, and an old jacket one of his foster brothers had once given him as a goodbye present when he realized that his parents really were getting rid of Yusaku. The teen reaches out, grabbing the cleanest of his uniforms and the fitting binder. 

“Whoa, whoa, hey! You’re not going to school are you?” Ai makes a ruckus from his pedestal, the whole duel disk shaking from how hard the AI inside of it is trying to throw a fuss. “That’s not healthy!”

“Irrelevant.” Yusaku answered him, opening the door to his pitiful bathroom. The shower wasn’t the best, but at least he had one. Even if the pipes were loud and whined in his ear when the water was running. Lucky, his neighbor on the other side of the bathroom wall was never home when the rent wasn’t due, so he had free reign on when he could use the shower. 

By the time he was done, and his uniform was slid comfortably on his dried skin, only half an hour had passed. By then the pill had taken effect, and Yusaku could more actively calculate if this day was going to be a good day or a bad one. It wasn’t either, he determines after a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. He’s a bit sensitive, but that’s better than pain. As long as he’s careful it should be fine. It will make spying on Zaizen a bit more of a hassle, but that was to be expected. 

He takes a moment to stare at himself in the mirror, taking in a breath and deciding that he had gotten enough sleep to pass off as healthy today. So he takes one last moment to brush his hair out of his eyes and leaves the off-white bathroom. 

“ _About time_!” Ai yells too loudly for his liking as soon as the door opens, “Don’t you ignore me like that when I’m trying to be all concerned!”

“Quiet.” Yusaku demands, moving to grab the duel disk from its pedestal and attaching it to his wrist properly. 

“No!” Ai whines, narrowing his eye into what was likely supposed to be an approximation of a glare. “And what do you think you’re doing? School isn’t for another two hours! And you shouldn’t be going! You’re _sick_!”

  
  
If he thought this was bad, then he was in no way prepared for actual bad days. So Yusaku continued ignoring him, settling at his desk and pulling open his laptop, content to work until it was time to leave.

“You’re ignoring me again.” Ai lamented loudly, giving a big sigh as he complained to the empty air. “Here I am, trying to be a nice guy and show concern for your health, but _nooooo_. Instead you ignore me! _Hm_! See if I try to be nice again.”

“Do not forget you are a hostage.” Yusaku reminded the Ai dully, which sent him off on another tirade about his cruelty and tyranny. The teen tuned him out, focusing on what he could get done in an hour. Not letting his mind wander to the dream that had awakened him early. 

“You need to go to bed.” Ai’s persistent voice cut through his focus sometime later, unwilling to let the matter rest. “You only got two hours of sleep! According to every medical journal I’m looking through, every human your age needs at least six. Much less when they have your impressive list of bodily defects.”

Yusaku’s fingers stopped, “Stay out of my medical records.”

“No way.” He doesn’t know how Ai managed to make one eyeball look so smug, but he managed it. “If I’m going to be living with you as my only protector then you better bet that I’m going to make sure you live long enough to do the job! And your meat body needs extra care!”

  
  
“You know I don’t get much sleep.” Yusaku scolds the AI, feeling a genuine bang of anger that he kept coolly masked.

“And that really concerns me!” Ai’s voice took on a strange frustration. His words felt oddly honest, twinged with something that Yusaku couldn’t recognize Ai as having expressed before. It makes him raise a brow, but then he quickly dismisses the observation. Likely, Ai was just making sure he was fit and healthy since Yusaku was what stood in the way between him and the knights of Hanoi. Meanwhile Ai continues on, not realizing his concerns were already dismissed. “All you do is eat hotdogs and get no sleep! You aren’t following _any_ of the medical journals advice for staying healthy! Do you even exercise?”

“That’s no excuse to go looking through my records. I have those locked away for a reason.” Yusaku states plainly.

“Well it’s not like you were sharing! And I wasn’t going to buy that phony record you have at your school!” Ai defended, eyeball narrowing again. “All you’ve got listed is Narcolepsy. You don’t even _have_ narcolepsy!”

The teen hummed, “They don’t need to know anything else.”

“ _Son of a glitch._ ” Ai mutters to himself. “You are going to die. You are going to kneel over in the middle of school one day and die. And then I’ll be stuck to your arm crying because you died, and then they’ll take me away and Hanoi will catch me, and then I’ll die too, and it will be your fault because all you eat is hotdogs and skip out on yoga.”

There was a time where Yusaku actually did yoga in the past, funnily enough. That was back when he thought if he just tried hard enough to get better and be good at the things his foster parents signed him up for that eventually they’d keep him. He’s taken three months worth of yoga with a parent that instructed for a living, three months worth of ballet, seven months of piano lessons, four of choir, a couple of cooking classes, three weeks of painting classes. And absolutely none of them were enough to make up for the hassle of raising him, no matter how good he did at any of them. By the time he’d reached his double digits he’d learn to stop caring, because you can dance until your feet bleed, or perfect Chopin on a keyboard, but it turns out no amount of talent makes up for how irritating it is when you when you wake them up every night with your screaming. 

But he didn’t say that out loud, because it wasn’t any of Ai’s business. Besides, it hardly mattered now. The only thing he retained from any of it was some very basic knowledge of cooking and how to read piano notes. 

“Stop ignoring me when I’m trying to scold you about your health!” Ai demanded again, “Roboppy! Back me up here! Don’t you think Yusaku needs more sleep and better food then hotdogs?”

  
  
“Master’s grocery time is this upcoming Monday.” Roboppy answers cheerily, rolling closer to the desk. “Master! It is almost time for school! Don’t forget to take your pills!”

  
  
“Gaaah!” Ai sounded almost defeated, “No logic can withstand stubborn jerks and shoddy AI.”

Yusaku went back to ignoring the AI until it was time to leave for school.

* * *

The weather is warm with mid-spring heat, and it’s made keeping his eyes locked on Zaizen all day easy enough.

He learns very little about the girl over the course of the day. She’s quiet, doesn’t bother with many people, and tends to spend any and all free time on her cellphone. Whether she is texting someone or simply on some form of social media or otherwise he has yet to determine. Whatever the case, her cellphone is almost always in her hand, eyes glued to the screen, a small charms hanging from the protective casing. 

Then, after classes were over, she went to the school’s duel club, which is where he found himself now. 

Shima sat next to him, beaming proudly forward, fully convinced that he was the one that had finally managed to convince Yusaku to attend this club instead of leaving for Cafe Nagi immediately. It was a convenient cover for his sudden interest in the club, at least, and it also left him with a convenient excuse for his absence when he inevitably decided he would no longer be attending these meetings. 

The club is led by a mild mannered student that looks very proper, but supports a deep passion for dueling and an equally deep respect for all forms of dueling. The rest of the club members are all average duelists of little note or interests. Zaizen is the most accomplished duelist in the room, which is of itself not a notable thing, and an inevitable fact when the knowledge of her hidden identity as the famously talented charisma duelist Blue Angel comes into play. Yusaku has not observed the deck she uses in public, but he assumes she, too, has a dummy in place of her actual deck. Though likely more well crafted than his own dummy deck, considering she cared enough about the club to become an active member, and how unimpressed she had been with the cards he’d presented her.

Overall, Zaizen Aoi seems to be an average girl who loves dueling and isn’t looking to make any new acquaintances outside her club and whatever social circle exists within her phone. Granted, one with a wealthy brother and who happens to secretly be a celebrity, but average girl nonetheless. Which means Yusaku has thoroughly wasted his time, because he doubts he will have any chance to casually observe her interactions with Zaizen Akira. Unless the man is the one on the phone with his sister, which Yusaku seriously doubts given the man must be busy as one of the only semi-competent people running SOLtech.

At least now Shima will stop harassing him about giving the club a chance, there’s no excuse for him to bother Yusaku about joining now that he’s sat in one one of the meetings. But otherwise there was little benefit outside of eliminating Zaizen as a potential point of observable contact with her brother. They’re simply going over summoning methods he’s already memorized a long, long, time ago. 

_~~In a white room.~~ _

The club’s meeting came to an end and the members broke from their seats to linger with one another excitedly. Yusaku took this as his cue to flee before he was held verbally hostage by overeager strangers.

“How did ya like the club Fujiki?” Shima slid in front of him, a wide grin plastered on his face, blocking Yusaku’s intended path. The blue haired boy could only stare flatly as his shorter classmate leaned against the desk smugly, “You probably learned a whole lot considering how...um...inexperienced you are dueling.”

Already, he found himself thinking of the three reasons he should give for why he should never step foot in this club room again. He held up his fingers, ticking off his reasons as he spoke, “Three things. One, you don’t know my experience with dueling, so you cannot know whether or no I am inexperienced.”

From her seat, Zaizen looks up from her phone, brows knitting together as her brown eyes land on him. Curious, she hadn’t been impressed with him before, but now he seems to have caught her attention. Or, perhaps, she too was easily irked by Shima and wanted to see him verbally corrected. Either way, he continues without acknowledging her, “Two, after spending days trying to convince me to join this club, you proceed to demand to see my deck and then mocked me.”

Shima’s whole face flushed with embarrassment and mortification, eyes widening. Yusaku felt a pang of amusement leak from the strange bond that connected he and Ai, but he ignored it in favor of finishing his points. “Three, I didn’t particularly enjoy myself, so the point of joining this club would be moot.”

The green haired teen looked like he swallowed a lemon. Zaizen actually lowered her phone from her eyes, studying him intently, with interest she hadn’t shown in him at any other point since meeting him today. “Do you not enjoy dueling Fujiki?”

It was an odd question, seeing as he was in a dueling club. It was even more odd since, well, everyone seemed to enjoy casually dueling. It’s just something people did, even if they weren’t good at it. Everyone indulged in it at one point or another, and you’d be hard pressed to find someone that could honestly say they didn’t casually enjoy the game. That said, he wasn’t particularly inclined to lie about it, “Not particularly.”

Shima made a downright offended noise. He jabbed a finger towards Yusaku, sounding downright disbelieving, “The _heck_ Fujiki?! Then why do you carry around that outdated duel disk? It’s because you’re bad at the game, isn’t it? You get _better_! It just takes practice! And maybe a duel disk upgrade! I’ll even help you!”

  
  
Yusaku merely watched him apathetically, Ai’s amusement humming somewhere deep within. Shima was downright throwing a fit where he was, causing a scene right in the duel room. He hadn’t seen something like this since he was still floating around the foster system, when some of the more spoiled foster siblings didn't take well to having a new brother when before they had all the attention. His friends flocked him, trying to calm him down by assuring him that people weren’t required to enjoy things. 

For her part, Zaizen took in the scene with the same cool disinterest he had. When she saw her fellow club members had moved in to deal with him, she turned, looking him up and down before settling her gaze on his. Then, a bit awkwardly, she tried to be...reassuring. “It’s okay not to like duel monsters Fujiki. I know not everyone does.”

He hummed, adjusting his bag over his shoulder, “I don’t particularly care what Shima thinks.”

“I didn’t think you did.” She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip just a bit. Her grip tightens on her phone just so, just enough for him to notice. “But still, I wanted to let you know it was okay not to like it, and you shouldn’t listen to people like him. You don’t have to return to the club if you feel pressured into it. I know that it can be...stressful...when you feel like you don’t have a choice.”

Her words sent off alarm bells and he frowned, his grip tightening on his bag strap, “Do you feel...pressured...into dueling Zaizen?”

“Hm?” She tilted her head just a bit, frowning as well. Then she seemed to process what he asked and shook her head, hair bobbing slightly. “Oh, no, I do enjoy it. I just...I have some friends who...all have reasons why they don’t enjoy duel monsters themselves…”

She trailed off, her eyes flicking over him again. The grip on her phone tightened again, knuckles going white. She bit her bottom lip tightly, like she was growing upset with the direction of conversation, so she changed it. Almost too suddenly. “You remind me of one of them.”

  
  
“Oh?” He adjusted his stance. He’s not sure if her sudden engagement with him is a positive or negative thing. While he did want to observe her interactions with her brother to get a read on the man, but he hadn’t wanted to take advantage of her. Now he’s finding himself in a rather awkward situation where she seems to be genuinely trying to befriend him, and Ai’s steady amusement coursing through him doesn’t help matters at all.

  
  
The worst part was she was quiet and seemed to know how to mind her own business, which fulfilled Yusaku’s apparently incredibly low standards for friendship he hadn’t been aware he still possessed. He could easily see the two of them bonding by sitting together in silence for hours, content to enjoy each other’s silent company. 

But then that spark of mistrust hits him. The same part of him that had long forgotten how to connect with people bleeding open and leaving him uncertain. Then the part of him that has gotten used to betrayal makes itself known. He doesn’t think she’s a bad person, per se, not like Dr. Lecter. But she has priorities, ties to SOLtech, a brother who helps run the company, a duty as Blue Angel. And even without all of that, his lifestyle was dangerous, filled with risk and revenge, with no time to waste on spending time with others. If it came down to a choice he would not be the one she chose, and all it would do would cause pain. Yes, a friendship between them was ill advised.

  
  
But she isn’t aware of this, and continues to try and reach out to him, “Yes, he’s one of my best friend’s roommates. He...talks a bit like you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, wondering how he could end this conversation. The wiser move would be to drag it out, to try and steer it into the direction of her brother and her relationship with him. But he isn’t exactly a master of navigating social situations. He has no idea how he would stir the topic from her friends to her brother. Besides which, the thought of just taking advantage of her kindness like that makes him feel vaguely disgusted with himself. He’d decided long ago he wouldn’t drag innocent people into this, and this feels like skirting the line. He’s not going to manipulate an innocent person for his own ends. He’s not SOLtech and Dr. Lecter.

  
  
' _Are you afraid of hurting them? Or are you afraid it will feel good?’_ He hears the ghost of a whisper in his ear. He ignores it, because he knows that’s not who he is, he’s proved it. No one deserves to be hurt like that, not even them. He’s going to get revenge, and he’s going to expose them and put them in prison, but he’s not going to hurt innocent people to do it. Low as he is, he’s still better than that. 

“He likes to name things in threes too.” Zaizen explains in the face of his silence. Her comment catches his attention, and he finds himself humming, tilting his head. It’s not an unusual thing to compartmentalize the way he does, breaking things down into threes, or counting time in set lumps of time. But it catches his attention anyway because it’s just uncommon enough, and it’s just special enough. He can’t help himself, maybe, because the first and only person he’d ever actually met that had the habit was…

...well, he supposes he doesn’t know for certain it was a habit for him. Yusaku only has the barest hint of memory surrounding the voice that saved him. Just their initial meeting and that day he saved Yusaku from giving up. But beyond that he didn’t actually know anything about his savior, just a few blurred features and that he’d enjoyed duel monsters. And that they had been together before Yusaku had awoken in the white room.

“Is that so?” Yusaku finds himself asking. He shouldn’t be. He should be trying to find a way out of this. He should be joining Shoichi at Cafe Nagi. But the words slip from his lips without his permission, a rare break in his normally carefully guarded control. It won’t happen again.

“Yes.” She nods, her grip easing off her phone for just a bit. The little raindrop charm dangles from the edge of her phone, catching light and knocking against a little flower charm it shared a keyring with. “He does it quite often, so I couldn’t help but notice.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, 

Zaizen seemed unsure how to carry on the conversation from there, her brows knitting together as he remained generally unhelpful in keeping it alive. She bit her lip again, eyes flickering over him again as her mind reeled. Yusaku decided to spare her by taking his chance to leave, moving around her and heading towards the door, “Well, I’d better get going.”

“Wai-” Zaizen calls after him, but he ignores her, fully intending to leave and head straight for Cafe Nagi.

But the world seems to be working against him, because as soon as he opens the door someone else is blocking his way. 

A sleek blonde stands there, hair slicked to one side, blue eyes peering forward. His eyebrows are strangely arched, making his default expression seem leering. He stood level with Yusaku, momentarily surprised as the door opened before he could knock. But his face fell into a strange smile, one that had Yusaku’s skin prickling. From within their link Ai stew with sudden anxiety, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and he had to school his features to keep goosebumps from forming across his flesh.

  
  
“ _Well_.” The teen smiled, grinning wide and holding up his hands, “ _You’re_ new.”

“Spectre.” Zaizen greeted, walking up to stand beside him. Her eyes flickered between them, but she seemed more at ease with the strange teen here now. But Yusaku didn’t have that luxury, feeling his skin start to prickle even now, his suspicions rising the longer he stood in the other’s presence. Perhaps he was being paranoid. Perhaps he was being properly cautious. Either way, he wanted to leave now, but the teen was blocking the only door.

“Fujiki, this is Kogami Spectre, a friend of mine that attends the school’s gardening club.” Zaizen turned to face the teen. “Spectre, this is Fujiki Yusaku, he decided to sit in on the duel club today.”

  
  
“Oh, so you’re the infamous Fujiki.” The oddly named teen grinned even wider somehow, eyes non-too-subtly studying him head to toe as he leaned in. “My, _my_! I’ve heard _so_ much about you.” 

Yusaku does not care for this information, “How?”

  
  
“Why, you didn’t know?” The blonde’s eyes practically twinkle, and his grin stretches even wider. “Shima speaks of you _very_ often. He's been trying to get you to join the duel club for some time now. Why, you could say he’s rather _enamored_ with you.”

Shima makes a loud noise like he’s dying, it startles both Yusaku and Zaizen, causing them to both jump and whirl around to face him. He’s barreling through his friends, red faced and sputtering as he launches himself at the new arrival, screeching as he flies through the air, “No I’m not! Stop it you _asshole_!”

The blonde merely moves out of the way, dodging Shima’s sloppy attack, moving to stand beside Zaizen, resting his hands on her shoulders and smiling ever mockingly at the flailing boy. “Oh? But I could have sworn this was the same Fujiki whose eyes y-”

“No! No! No, no, no, no, no, _no_!” He crossed his arms in an X over his chest, still flailing like he was drowning. “My heart only belongs to Playmaker!”

Yusaku felt an inexplicable urge to die as he suddenly experienced the most discomfort he’s ever felt, and he received his painfully detailed sex talk from an overenthusiastic foster sister.

_~~She was the same foster sister that bought him his first binder. They’d spent six months together, the second longest he’s ever stayed in a home. He’d thought that home would be the one, for a time, but her mother couldn’t deal with him on her own, so off he went. Sometimes he missed her. But there was no use missing someone who’d probably forgotten all about him.~~ _

“Ah, a love triangle, how terribly familiar.” Spectre moved closer to Zaizen’s ear, fake whispering, “My money is on Fujiki and Playmaker being the endgame.”

Shima’s suffering could be heard by the dead, and Ai actually almost exposed himself by choking on his own laughter. Luckily, the other members of the duel club were making too much noise for anyone to notice. Unluckily, that meant Yusaku was surrounded by loud noise and was very quickly reaching the end of his ability to deal with it before he reached sensory overload.

  
  
“Don’t mock him.” Zaizen scolded her friend before turning to face Yusaku and bowing her head slightly, “Forgive us, Fujiki, Specter likes to tease too much. It’s one of his more annoying qualities.”

  
  
“You like that about me.” Specter immediately teased her, peering around her shoulder. “I came to see if you wanted to visit Miyu today, if your brother doesn’t mind.”

“Ah…” She blinked, her eyes going back to Yusaku. He doesn’t know why, she hardly needs his permission to leave school with her friend, but something in her seems to hesitate. Finally, she turns back to Specter, nodding her head, “I’m sure my brother won’t mind. Besides, I wanted to talk about something with you.”

  
  
“Oh? Excellent.” The teen looked very pleased with the news, and Yusaku decided that this conversation was none of his business. So he took a step back, trying to slide through the door now that it wasn’t blocked by the blonde. Even if Shima was still screeching like a monkey right next to it, he took his chance, trying to slip out unnoticed. 

Apparently, he’s as sneaky as Shima is quiet, because Zaizen calls after him. “I’ll see you tomorrow Fujiki.”

Well, at least she was letting him leave. So he hummed, hoping that was as good as a goodbye to her, leaving the room and storming down the hall in hopes of losing the duel club members, and their gardening club oddity. 

Ai isn’t patient at all, and as soon as they’re relatively alone he bursts out into loud laughter. 

“It’s not funny.” He scolds the AI.

  
  
“Oh yes it was.” Ai laughed, eye screwing up at him like he was trying to convey a smile. “You should have seen your face! I’m telling the hotdog man you’re cheating on him with Playmaker.”

Because apparently this was the sort of mocking that Yusaku was going to suffer today. “I’m cheating on a man I am not in any sort of romantic relationship with...with my avatar?”

  
  
“Do be robophobic.” Ai giggled, knowing full well how absurd he was being, “I can’t believe you’d discriminate like that. How am I ever going to gain marriage rights with you acting like this? Who will give me away at my wedding now?”  
  


As always, it seemed that the best course of action was to ignore Ai, so that is exactly what he did, hitting the mute button on his duel disk, dropping his arm and drawing his gaze forward, determined to ignore outrage he knows his captive feels. He has work to do, and no time for Ai’s jokes.

Observing Zaizen was a waste of time, so he’ll have to go straight to SOLtech blind. That’s just fine with him, he’s confident in their ability to get in and out of the company’s incompetently handled security just fine. Even if Zaizen Akira proves to be a problem, Yusaku is sure that anything he could manage to do to prevent their information from being taken would surely be undone by the efforts of his employers. Because leave it to companies like SOLtech to make their competent workers few and far in between, an overtaxed way of carrying the company. An attempt to keep the company running functionally, but not letting anyone uncorrupt and sensible get close enough to their dirty little secrets to expose them he supposes. 

Cafe Nagi is once again already set up when he arrives, the worst of the crowd had already passed while he was attending the duel club, leaving Shoichi a bit more free handed when greeting him. “Hey Yusaku.”

“Kusanagi.” 

“How’d it go?” The older man asked absentmindedly as the teen settled himself in the back of the truck, wasting no more time getting to work. 

“A waste of time.” He answered, fingers already tapping at the keyboard, “We’re going to have to go in with Ghost Girl's information and nothing else.”

“Aw, man.” Shoichi wrinkled his nose, visibly unhappy as he sat in the chair next to Yusaku, joining him while the counter was empty. “This is going to suck. Can we even trust that woman? She's sketchy during the best of times, and she's weird about you.”

“It has to be done.” The blue haired boy reminds his partner.

  
  
“I know, I know.” Shoichi sighs, his own fingers flying now, code appearing across his screen. “Did you at least have fun stalking today?”

Yusaku didn’t bother answering him.

* * *

**Bonus** :

_Yusaku blinks and the boy is gone. He’s back in the white room, the world glitching around him. But he’s only there for a moment before he’s glitching again, and suddenly there are tiny blurs at his feet. The world around him is glitching a whole lot, and there’s a lot of yelling, and sometimes the room is white, and sometimes it’s a forest, and sometimes it’s a house, but it does keep glitching._ _  
__  
__“Hey!” One of them cries, and he can’t remember what it looks like, “You’re my kid!”_

 _“I don’t know where I am.” Yusaku wobbles on his feet, or he thinks he does. He feels sick. “I was at therapy. But I don’t think it was supposed to be like this.”_ _  
__  
__“How did you get here, child?” A blue blur asks him._

_“Dr. Lecter hypnotized me.” Yusaku answers his delusion properly, because he has no reason to lie to his own head. “I’m supposed to be facing the white room right now and coming to terms with my memories.”_

_“More like you got drugged, kid.” Another blur speaks, all red and black. “It’s making your Link Sense go haywire. Can you even tell what’s real and what’s a delusion right now?”_ _  
__  
__“You’re all a delusion, that’s the point. We’re in my head.” Yusaku answers, looking around. “I don’t remember where I just was.”_

 _“I doubt you’ll remember any of this when you sober up.” A green blur comments._ _  
__  
__“Wait! Back up! He’s been drugged?!” The first blur flies to his face, “Kid! Speak to me! Who did this to you?”_ _  
__  
__“I’m okay.” Yusaku promises, except now he’s starting to feel a little sick. “I feel better now. Dr. Lecter was right, I just needed to face the white room. And now I’m here, and it’s easy to leave.”_ _  
__  
__“Kid, you’re high as a kite on hallucinogens right now, and your Link Sense is glitching you in and out of the virtual world.” The red blur speaks._ _  
__  
__“Child, listen very carefully.” The blue blur requests, and she’s so nice about it that Yusaku nods. “Good, good. I need you to not listen to your therapist, alright? We’re going to call the police for you.”_

 _“Okay.” He nods. “No white rooms though, I don’t like white rooms. I want to go to a hospital with...with color.”_ _  
__  
__“Alright.” The blue blur says, “Just lay down, we’re emailing the police now.”_  
 _  
_“Okay.” He nods, and closes his eyes.

_**And then he’s in the white room again.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wrote the chapter. Now, wait a weeks before you post it BBell.
> 
> ...
> 
> Two days after my last update is a long enough wait.
> 
> [With a knife to my throat as my readers see the fuckery I pulled] I have done nothing wrong in my life. Ever.
> 
> I promise there will be no more appearances or flashbacks into Dr. Lecter and his unorthodox and illegal therapy. Because while that move he pulled would have worked for his end goals on Yusaku in every other universe (only because of years of gaslighting and patience), here Yusaku and the Lost Kids, unfortunately for the good doctor, have a funky psychic connection to the internet. And Ai and the other Ignis take exception to that fuckery. And that's how Yusaku was betrayed by his therapist, quit therapy altogether, and totally justified any past experiences with his Link Sense. Because drugs. And bad flashbacks. 
> 
> Anyway, onto other shit. I love Emma Bessho and how she's actually a good person. I also love her weird keen interest in Playmaker.
> 
> Anyway! Yay! Duel Club and Aoi! Now, I know what you're thinking. You're all so excited that Yusaku and Aoi are on the beginning path of being friends! But, yeah, Suzukage and Miyu don't go to Yusaku's school for their own reasons, but Specter loves it! Mostly because he loves mocking Shima and affectionately harassing Aoi.
> 
> Someone: BBell, mayhaps I am over reading, you seem to be ship teasing Blueghostshipping, but what about Miyu!  
> Well...  
> Others: Is that hotdogshipping hints I see? But on your tumblr you said you personally see them as brothers! Are you, perhaps, an unreliable narrator? How do you plead!  
> I plead to fanservice. I'm sorry, audience. But [rips open shirt to reveal "Multishipper" shirt underneath] I don't ship it personally, but all ships are okay to me and I like throwing bones. However, in this fic, they're strictly brother figures.  
> Opposition: You're distracting from the real issue! Blueghostshipping or Zinniashipping?  
> BBell: [Sips tea nervously] ...why not both?
> 
> Anyway, we should be dipping a bit back in Ryouken and his POV next chapter, so don't you guys get too made at me for waiting for his dramatic POV to show back up again. Don't worry your impatient selves, his dramatic ass was never not going to be content with just the first chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**Waldosia:** A condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there.

* * *

Finding Playmaker in Vrains was like looking for a SOLtech employee with morality. You could find them, but they were laying low and hiding their trails, so it was so time consuming and damn near impossible that it made the teeth ache.

  
  
Apparently, in order to gain Playmaker’s attention, you had to either be one of the less important knights of Hanoi, or charisma duelist Go, because nothing Revolver had done so far had been able to lure the mysterious vigilante into a duel. Not even riding his “giant fuck you dragon”, as Suzukage affectionately called it, through the network and destroying things had been enough to lure the mysterious figure out.

“Not to help the knights with anything ever.” Suzukage looks up from his spot at the kitchen counter, a spoon dangling from his mouth, a bowl of something that Ryouken doesn’t dare ask what is laying in front of him, his arms wrapped protectively around it, as if he’s scared Ryouken will snatch it away. It’s a habit he’s had since well before Ryouken found him three years ago. He’s protective of food, and keeps whole stashes of food hidden throughout the house. A result of the starvation he’d faced, no doubt about it. But that’s not what he should be focusing on, instead he should be focusing on the boy’s words, which he causally drops with little care, “But have you considered riding another giant fuck you dragon?”

  
  
“You just want another video to go viral.” Ryouken accuses, pouring himself a glass of water.

  
  
“It was _hilarious_.” Suzukage takes the spoon from his mouth and points it at Ryouken, “I don’t think you even know how extra you looked. You were like a cartoon villain. You giant fucking mess.”

“I was trying to lure out a vigilante, of course I acted like a cartoon villain.” The silver haired teen justified, hooking his toes around the counter stool and pulling it out, taking a seat once it was moved enough for him to sit comfortably. “Not that it worked.”

“That’s because you’re clearly the final boss.” Suzukage nods sagely, because apparently they’re applying video game logic to the universe now. “Only an idiot will purposely make shit harder on themselves by going after the final boss first. He’s probably grinding, finding cheats, looking for a way to make it easier on himself. You always take out all the mooks before the final boss.”

  
“This isn’t a game.” Ryouken sighs, honestly annoyed.

“My guy, Vrains is literally just a virtual reality MMORPG for duel monsters.” Is Suzukage’s oh-so-wise observation. “I mean, think about it. You make avatars, there’s events, you can make money if you have enough fame. There’s minigames, and missions, and even a story mode that no one bothers to play.”

“Is there?” Ryouken asked idly, because he actually didn’t spend any time in Vrains unless it involves business. He hasn’t actually bothered to do any of the offered activities, preferring to dedicate his time to other, more important, matters.  
  


“Yeah, there is.” Suzukage waves his hand dismissively, taking his spoon and poking his food with it. “You can get a lot of in Vrains currency for doing the missions, but most people just buy stuff with actual money because the story mode is just that bad. The events are way better too. Like, there was this Egyptian themed one a while back, my buddies at school said it was super rad and interesting, and it ended with you fighting a pharaoh.”  
  


Ryouken half paid attention, nodding along and humming at appropriate times, but in reality he really wasn’t all that interested. Still, he liked to encourage the others' interests, and the fact that Suzukage had come along enough that he could watch other people duel was a good sign. “I suppose I could capture Playmaker by making him play the story mode.”

“Nah man, you just need to be less extra.” Suzukage pointed the spoon at him again, “You showed off that you were the final boss, so now he’s laying low, biding his time, grinding his level. He’s gonna wanna take the bosses out one by one and then take you out.”  
  


“Wouldn’t it make more sense to cut the head off of the snake?” Ryouken asked him, quirking a brow. 

“Not if he’s any kind of gamer, no.” Suzukage nodded to himself, because of course that logic makes sense to him. 

“I don’t think he’s a gamer.” Ryouken told him evenly.

“Of course not. This guy is a genuine article superhero.” Suzukage suddenly bounced, dropping his spoon and reaching into his pocket to dig out his phone. Once he had it he waved it back and forth dramatically, “Have you seen his duel with Go? That shit was legit. He ain’t playing around.”

Of course he’s seen Playmaker’s duel with Vrain’s most famous charisma duelist. Everyone has seen that duel by now. It’s not everyday that the Vrains Champion seeks someone out to duel personally. And it’s especially rare to see the now legendary Playmaker, who had singlehandedly saved the entire thing and cemented himself as something of a hero of the internet. It was a duel that caught everyone’s attention, especially his, seeing as Go had disguised himself as one of his subordinates, which sent him into something of a panic as he desperately searched through the knight’s data-banks trying to find which one had gone rogue and what he planned to do. 

Ryouken silently reminded himself to hack Go’s inbox and do something that would waste hours of his time just like the man had wasted his. Especially since he had poured endless time into watching and rewatching that duel, because it was the clearest video of Playmaker out there, and the only one that wasn’t broken up or corrupted or outright deleted in some way like his duels with the various knights that had been unlucky rough to cross him. It had a clear view of the vigilante, a show of his cards and skill, a peek into his strategy. The information he gained from that duel was invaluable. 

And, somewhat selfishly, he was distracted by the eyes.

How could he not be? They were so green. 

Looking at those eyes was like looking directly into the past. They cut into the heart, burrowing into the heart and burning him from the inside out. It was like Playmaker was mocking him, like he knew of the obsession that haunted Revolver’s soul. Those eyes, captivating in their fury, damned near the same shade and shape. The emeralds decorating hell’s gates, tempting him to open the doors and let loose all the evils held within. 

Playmaker knew, he realized then. 

Because the more he looked at the avatar, the more he started to see the face of Pandora. 

It was all in the little details, the things you’d have to be paying attention to. Things you would only notice if you’d stared at the sixth test subject's face as often as he. The asymmetrical pink bangs that stuck out the right side of his head, the shape of his left, the shape of the eyes, the rough shape of the left side of his hair, the ears, the shape of his nose. 

He _knows_. 

Playmaker _knows_.

Logically, there could be any number of reasons Playmaker took on his appearance. How he knew of the Lost Incident could also be explained by dozens of different theories. He’s clearly a hacker, for one, and a vigilante seeking justice. He has an Ignis and it easily could have told him. He could be related to one of the victims. Or he could be one of the officers or someone related looking for redemption after the blatant cover-up. 

But with those features? Revolver couldn’t help the irrational feeling that Playmaker knew. That he had somehow peered into his soul, and plucked out the thing he wanted most, and wore their skin in blatant mockery. He wanted Revolver to know he knew, he wanted to shake Revolver to his core. 

_‘Look Revolver, this is what his face looks like now_.’ He imagines Playmaker’s voice mocking him. ‘ _This is his face. This is what he looks like. Are you really going to hurt this face again? Are you going to be the reason it’s twisted in pain again_?’

If that was the game Playmaker had crafted then it was _working_. 

Ryouken must have watched this video hundreds of times by now, but that doesn’t stop him from watching it play out again on Suzukage’s phone. Watching Playmaker is like catching a glimpse of the future and his worst fears all inside one avatar. The face he wants to see most surrounded by the gold and red, whipping around his cheeks like a flurry of hellfire, those eyes emblazoned and burning in through him. 

‘ _I know you can’t stand the idea of hunting this face._ ’ He imagines Playmaker saying. Or, worse, ‘ _I know where he is, Revolver, and I’m not giving him to you_.’

It made the dark, _possessive_ , part of him twist with something ugly. 

“He’s so cool.” Suzukage claims, staring intently at the phone. Because Suzukage doesn’t know what the sixth subject looks like, and he probably wouldn’t know the tell similarities if he did. There’s just enough difference that it throws off the trail, and only a man truly obsessed would notice. “Way cooler than Go.”

“How? Go is at least likeable. All Playmaker does is brush everyone off from what I’ve seen.” Ryouken says lightly. It’s not the truth at all, because he wouldn’t dare ever share his thoughts on Playmaker. He can’t allow himself to say it aloud, because then it makes his thoughts seem all the more real rather than fickle fantasy and paranoia. And, besides which, he’s the leader of the Knights of Hanoi, and he can’t allow himself to ever present as weak, even away from their prying eyes. Because then it will become a habit, and he could slip, and terrorists are not people you want to be weak in front of.

“No way, Go sucks.” Suzukage explains loudly, leaning back against his chair, drumming his hands on their black marble island top, “He’s nothing but an attention whore and everyone over twelve knows it. He’s not adorable and fun, like Blue Angel, or charming and playful like Ghost Girl, he’s just good at pretending he’s losing and then turning everything around to make himself look more impressive.”

“I had no idea you had such strong feelings about charisma duelists.” Ryouken stated blandly. “I’m sure Zaizen will appreciate the fact you think Blue Angel is a better showman than her rival.”

“Blue Angel is great, don’t compare Go to her.” Suzukage states passionately, clutching his chest, “Aoi knows how to not be a jerk in real life, that’s what really sells it.”  
  


“Go volunteers at orphanages.” Ryouken points out, pointing at the green haired boy, “That’s not exactly evil.”  
  


“SOLtech funds a lot of charity events, doesn’t stop _them_ from being evil pricks.” Suzukage immediately responded, staring Ryouken in the eye and raising an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge that particular argument. 

Ryouken absolutely couldn’t, there was nothing to be said in the face of such overwhelming evidence, so he was forced to abandon his lofty defense in favor of something else. “Still, beating your least favorite charisma duelist isn’t a reason to consider Playmaker any better. He is a vigilante, which I remind you, is illegal.”

“That would be damning if I trusted the police or government to protect me at all.” The green haired boy flickered his eyes back to his phone, watching Playmaker on the screen. His eyes were clouded as he watched the duel play out, hungry for the details, and Ryouken felt that ugly feeling well inside of him again. Not as strong as before, but still there, still ugly. 

“You don’t need to trust them.” The silver haired teen reminds, hand tightening around his glass. A protective pang stabbed in his chest, but he swallowed it down. It was no use thinking about the DCPD or SOLtech, or any of the others. He was more than capable of giving them anything they wanted. A safe house with plenty of space and more security than city hall, money, a fridge that was never empty, any hacked records they needed to get into whatever school or event they wanted. He’d waste no effort, and they’d never have a need for either the police or government assistance. “No one can attack us here.”

The benefit of being wealthy, he mused.

“That’s nice for _us_.” Suzukage stated mildly, eyes still on the screen. His voice was light, and airy, and it was the same one he used whenever he was thinking about the man that lay comatose on the other side of the house. Those teal eyes flickered from the screen to him. And then, humming lightly, Suzukage spoke again, “I hope he kicks your ass when you fight.”

Those words were stabbing, and they twisted the fragile wound. It’s not shocking, not at all. He even understands why Suzukage would say those words to his face, because he’d never once held back when it comes to his opinions, and especially his opinions on the knights of Hanoi. Suzukage had no filter, and wasn’t going to be held back, as untamed as the wind, and as subtle and relentless as a hurricane. 

“He has a weapon that could possibly end the human race as we know it, Suzukage.” Ryouken grimaced at the thought. “I wouldn’t be working with them for any other reason. And I’m turning them in as soon as this is over.” 

Suzukage gave him a flat stare, “No offense Ryouken, but I will never, ever, not ever trust a single calculation your asshole dad makes. Ever. In fact, I am inclined to believe the opposite of anything he says.”

That was also not surprising. So Ryouken sets his cup down on the counter gently, folding his forearms as they fall into a familiar argument, “He considers this project his child, Suzukage. He loves Project Hanoi more than anything in the world. He wouldn’t risk this if he wasn’t sure.”

The green haired boy’s face twisted, his eyes flickering from his phone screen to Ryouken many times before they finally settled on the silver haired teen, settling on a pitying look, “You _really_ need to sort out some issues if you don’t see what’s wrong with your relationship with your dad when he readily admitted to being fully down to kill something he considers his child to your face.”

It’s another knife stab, because again, Suzukage had never once held back, not even at the expense of others' feelings. But it’s still blunt, and painful, and so true that Ryouken feels it even years after he accepted he was hardly the first priority in his father’s heart. 

“That doesn’t change that humanity might be at stake Suzukage.” Ryouken reminds him, because that’s the one thing that can always make the boy waver. Because even he, who likes to joke about how humanity is too terrible to exist and has had it’s fair run, doesn’t actually want to see the end of it. 

And so he wavers, with his brows easing and his lips falling into a small frown, expression softening into an uncertain one. His hatred and certainty that Dr. Kogami was wrong now twinged with just that little seed of doubt. But, as always, even the lack of context as to how the destruction of humanity would be brought about was enough to shake the boy, so he just looked back to his screen and spoke, a bit more softly now, “I don’t think a man willing to torture children actually cares all that much about humanity.”

It’s another stab, and Ryouken has to physically hold back a winch. He wants to defend his father, and the argument is on the tip of his tongue, but the words won’t leave his lips. Because even that instinctual need to defend the man who raised him doesn’t change the fact that Suzukage had every right in the world to feel this way. All the subjects of the Hanoi Project had every right in the world to feel that way, and they had every right to make their feelings loud and clear. So Ryouken clicks his mouth shut and says nothing. 

Knowing that he’d put them in a stalemate, Suzukage looks back to his phone, eyes only on Playmaker now, lit with genuine admiration that made ugly jealousy stew within him. Again, it’s not surprising. Playmaker stood as a mysterious figure, a hero that came out of nowhere with the sole purpose of fighting the knights of Hanoi, the very people who hurt Suzukage. To him, Playmaker must seem like the hero he wished existed back when he was a child, out to stop his tormentors and save them from their torment. Ryouken has to look away from the screen for a moment and remind himself that it wasn’t Playmaker that got them out, it wasn’t Playmaker gathering them and keeping them safe from SOLtech.

_~~It wasn’t Playmaker that put those green eyes in that white room either. It wasn’t Playmaker that betrayed his father, ruining his life and leaving him all alone. It wasn’t Playmaker that was too consumed by guilt and regret to visit the victims and finally learn the name of the boy whose life he ruined. And it wasn’t Playmaker that was failing to find them all after ten years of looking now.~~ _

“So, yeah, try a big “Fuck you” dragon again. I’m sure a second time will draw him out.” Suzukage inadvertently cuts through his thoughts. 

“Now you’re just being purposely obtuse.” Ryouken accuses, grabbing the lifeline that the other boy has chosen to throw at him. 

“You could try disguising yourself as one of your mooks like Go did.” The green haired boy shrugged, not actually caring if Ryouken tried his idea or not.

It...actually wasn’t a bad idea. It clearly worked for Go. Though, thinking about it, it’s unlikely that the same trick would work twice on someone like Playmaker. If he really is a skilled enough hacker to access files on the survivors of the Lost Incident, or even just a relative, then he’s likely learned to be properly paranoid. 

Ryouken chewed on the thought, wondering. A vengeful relative, that would make the most sense. He doubts some random hacktivist would stumble on the information and find files on the Lost Incident and choose to become a vigilante rather than release them to the public, and it’s even more doubtful that he found the files where Ryouken failed. No, this was someone with a personal stake in all of this, someone that knew about it and didn’t want to draw attention to the identity of the victims and expose them to all that media attention. Not that Ryouken would have let him. The moment those files were leaked he would have destroyed them within seconds in order to protect them. But the fact Playmaker hadn’t anonymously leaked the information said more than the fact he could have.

The possessiveness grew within Ryouken as he pieced this together, his fingers twitching against the countertop as the need to reach out and grab the avatar though the phone filled him. His eyes flickered down to Suzukage’s screen, accessing the situation playing out on the screen. He knew. Playmaker most certainly knew where Pandora was. Perhaps he was an older brother, perhaps a cousin, or even just a friend, but he knew. 

It suddenly made his motivation to find the avatar increase tenfold. 

He shouldn’t assume so readily. Again, it’s very possible that he was simply as good at finding information as Ryouken himself. The silver haired teen even recently tracked down a former janitor for the DCPD that worked the night they found the Lost Incident victims, and had bore silent and forgotten witnesses to the incident. It wasn’t much, but he could at least get an idea of the family and friends of the victims, maybe even a name or two. All he had to do was set up a meeting and a bribe. He should be focusing on that…

...but he couldn’t shake those _eyes_. 

‘ _I know where he is_.’ Those eyes told him, _‘I know where he is, and I know he’s the one you want the most. You can hide it from the others all you like, but I know._ ’

Damn those eyes. Only they’d held the secrets to his shameful, sinful, desires. They know too much, they see too much, and they weren’t even the real thing. They were just some copy on an avatar, a collection of pixels and ones and zeros gathered together to make a ghost, a wraith. But, shamefully, he has to admit he’s settled on cheap copies before. Back when puberty hit and he realized just how badly obsessed he’d become, and how much he warped his own tastes because of it. Because now he wants nothing but green and blue. 

How many times has he wallowed in his own frustrations? How many shameful nights has he searched for green eyes and blue haired images online, only to find the results lacking. Sometime down the road he lost his first kiss to a girl with green eyes that just weren’t vivid enough, and blue hair that was too pastel, and he’d been left disappointed and with the taste of too strong lip gloss on his tongue. He’s damned himself with obsession, and now he doesn’t know what he’ll do if his personal Pandora doesn’t want him. It’s the curse of finding his soulmate young, if he believed in such fanciful ideas. But it’s as close an analogy as he’ll ever get. Perhaps he made Subject 006 into his soulmate through sheer will, fixating on him in particular because he’s the one Ryouken chose to make his first friend and companion, only to lead him into the gates of hell himself. And now his whole world is wanting a boy he, objectively, knows nothing about.

~~_One, he used to love duel monsters before Ryouken led him into doom. Two, he used to wear his heart on his sleeve, and trusted Ryouken wholeheartedly when they met. So naive and good, not doubting for a moment he wouldn't be hurt by the other boy, trusting the stranger to protect him. Three, he was so, so, very unbelievably strong in the face of suffering. Always getting back up and fighting again, always trying, always willing to try more and more_.~~

Maybe once he meets Subject 006 he’ll finally move on. Once he faces the fact that he doesn’t know him, or that he wasn’t the wailing siren he remembered, or he’s rejected because who would choose the one who had led them to damnation? Ryouken had looked that child in the eye and held out his hand in friendship, and Subject 006 had taken it readily and without hesitation, trusting that wherever the silver haired boy took him, he’d be safe and happy. And that innocent trust was betrayed in the worst way. 

He wonders who the boy is now. Can he stand looking at duel monster cards? Can he stand how prevalent it is in day to day life? Is he like Miyu and looking at it all with trembling hands and quivering lips, forcing himself to move on but never quite able to keep away the flinching that comes with being invited to duel? Does he avoid the crowds because he can’t stand how loud the world has become? Is he like Suzukage, who copes with dark humor and casually making light of the pain that racks his body. Who stays inside because leaving is too much effort on his tired body, but also resents being trapped behind walls and forcing himself to venture out in short bursts. Is he like Specter, denying the experience affected him at all? Does he burn with the anger of a tempest at sea? Does he try to forget? Does he trust little now? Does he guard his heart? Does he cry still? Do those green eyes still well with tears and pain every day? If they do, will he stop once he’s home?

A thrill fills Ryouken as he realizes that, for the first time, he may have a clue that will lead him to Pandora. Something like anticipation riddles his bones, laced with uncertainty. He’d considered before what would happen if he’d ever gotten this far, and his conclusion never changes. Subject 006 would, without any room for doubt, be the most difficult to convince to return home. Because Ryouken doubts he trusts naively anymore, not after last time, and he most certainly wouldn’t trust the hand that damned him to lead him anywhere close to salvation. And no matter if his voice seemed to have helped, his voice could only carry so far, and time ages bitterness like wine.

No, he doesn’t expect to be forgiven. He only hopes that he’ll be heard out, that Pandora will consider his offer. Maybe he’ll take Miyu when they find him, maybe she could help. She was gentle, and honest, and perhaps the best to try and convince the others he means no harm. 

“Dude, I can, like, hear your brain overworking.” Suzukage drums his hands on the counter, snapping Ryouken out of his thoughts. Blue eyes meet teal, and the younger teen raises an eyebrow at his housemate, “What’s with you? You’re not normally this...spacey.”

He doesn’t share his thoughts on Playmaker’s possible connection to Subject 006, nor does he dare share his more...personal...thoughts on the subject. Instead he takes a sip of water, using it as an excuse not to speak while he thinks of something to change the subject. “Just thinking about the work I still have to do.”

Suzukage’s face makes it clear that he very much doubts that, but he doesn’t say anything about it, but only because at that moment Specter and Zaizen Aoi walk into the room, both with their bags still heavy on their shoulders, and both in deep discussion.

“-begging you not to do so.” Zaizen finishes dully, eyes locked on Spectre’s face as they move towards the island. “Shima will complain to me if you do.”

“You don’t think he’ll simply love it.” Spectre had a grin on his face that very much said how much he knew Shima wouldn’t love it. “I think it will be all his greatest fantasies come to life.”

“I don’t want to think of Shima’s fantasies.” Zaizen stated, looking away from specter and towards the two figures watching them from their seats. She nodded her head in greeting, “Ryouken, Suzukage.”

“Hey Aoi.” Suzukage waves at her, grinning easily. He props his chin on his hands, elbows on the counter and grinning. “Spectre trying to lead an annoying classmate to a dead body and frame him for murder?”

“I’d hardly need an actual body to frame someone for murder.” Spectre commented before turning and bowing his head to Ryouken. “I’m home, and I’ve graciously allowed Aoi to enter our place of dwelling.”

“Place of dwelling. Oh my god, you’re so fucking pretentious.” Suzukage groaned, as he often did around Spectre, rolling his eyes as he often did around his fellow former captive. Affectionately, of course. 

Spectre, as always, was hardly inclined to ignore him, “Envious of my superior diction?”

“Soooooo smug, oh my god.” Suzukage shook his head, ignoring the smirking boy and facing Zaizen, holding up his phone. “Please tell me you’re going to duel Playmaker soon.”

“His inbox is closed.” Zaizen’s face actually looked displeased at this information, lips twisted downward in displeasure. “I’ve been riding Vrains for days, but he’s always gone before I can find his location.”

Interesting, so Zaizen was looking for him too? No surprise, SOLtech was hunting the Ignis on his arm just as fiercely as the knights, only with far more insidious intentions. Not that the younger of the Zaizen siblings would be made aware of this. 

It’s been a source of tension for him since Miyu first reconnected with the girl. He’s told the others about the knights of Hanoi, and to a certain extent about the Ignis, but he hasn’t exactly told them how the two are connected. And, more important, how the Ignis are connected to the Hanoi Project. All any of them know is that the Ignis are things his father made and now wants to destroy for the sake of humanity. 

He can’t let Zaizen know he is Revolver, because her brother is the head of SOLtech security, and Revolver is a cyber-terrorist, and Hanoi is...well.

Needless to say, it’s a source of discomfort in this house. Miyu prefers to know nothing and wash her hands of it, because she never wants to choose between Ryouken and Aoi, and because she’s scared that if she knows that she’ll take the side that causes the least amount of harm, which may very well be with her abusers. Suzukage chooses to hate both SOLtech and Hanoi in one, and makes snide comments about both in front of both Zaizen and Ryouken. And Specter will always choose whatever Ryouken wants.

Either way, Zaizen’s connections with SOLtech is something they tend to try and avoid, and it’s an open secret to everyone but her.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get a shot at him eventually.” Suzukage shrugs, lowering his phone. He wrinkles his nose, flicking his fingers now that the latest topic he wants to fixate on is off the table. He kicked out his feet instead, eyes flickering over the kitchen, then he grabbed his phone and his thumbs started flying. “I’ll let Miyu know you’re wasting time trying to stop Specter from committing murder.”

“Afraid you’ll be my target?” Spectre smiled, lowering his bag from his shoulder, “Because I assure you, you don’t meet my standards.”

“Are you saying I’m not good enough to feed your flowers?’ Suzukage actually looked offended, patting his chest with his hand, “I’ll have you know I’m quality grade protein!” 

“Not with the junk food I’ve seen you eat.” Spectre wrinkled his nose, as if the very thought of junk food offended him. “I wouldn’t let you rot anywhere near my garden. You might spoil their roots.”

“You’re just mad that the hotdog truck that parks at the boardwalk outside makes better food then you.” The teal haired boy shot back with a smug grin, elbows on the table again, “I bet it just tears you up inside knowing that nothing you ever cook will be as good as one greasy grilled hotdog from a food truck.”

Spectre looked murderously offended. Ryouken coughed in his hand, not willing to tell him that, good as his food is, after a lifetime under his father and Kiyoko’s specially selected diet, the greasy hotdogs and fries Suzukage and Miyu bring back from that food truck are probably the best things he’s ever eaten. 

“I know what you’re going to say, and I’m telling you, there’s nothing in the world you can make that will beat fresh fries and some ketchup on the boardwalk.” Suzukage gives his firm opinion on the matter, letting all within the confines of the kitchen know he will be unmoved by any argument otherwise. “It’s, like, a scientific _fact_. Like Monster Hunter being the best game to play online, or pandas being cute, or earth being a round lump.”

“Your taste remains the most questionable thing on this earth.” Is Spectre’s disgusted reply.

“What did Suzukage do now?” Miyu’s soft voice fills the room as she descends from the upstairs, still in her pajamas because she didn’t feel like getting dressed today. She’s been mostly shut in her room today, her nerves acting up just a little bit too much for her to feel comfortable walking around. It makes Ryouken anxious to see her actually doing so now, especially after she refused to cancel her therapy earlier today, but he bit his tongue.

“Miyu.” Zaizen’s eyes honed in on the girl, her feet automatically moving her closer. He can tell she wants to reach out and take the other girl’s hands in her own, but she doesn’t, aware of the boundary Miyu set up for herself today. A fire ignites in her eyes, and there’s a flash of loathing for the ones that put the girl in this position, but it dies quickly and mostly unnoticed. “How are you?”

“A little better.” Miyu rubs her eyes, “Not okay, I feel like my skin is about to peel off, but better.”

“Did you take your pills?” Zaizen asks quietly, her hands hanging loosely at her sides now. Beside her, Spectre tilts his head curiously, blue eyes burning into the girls. Suzukage watches this scene play out from his spot, as invested as he would be in any other drama. 

“Yes.” Miyu reassured, movements stilted as she wavered in place. “I took something.”

Zaizen didn’t seem any more pleased, but she didn’t look overly upset either. She simply nodded, having no choice but to bitterly accept that there was nothing more she could do for the girl. It’s something that boils his own blood when it happens, one of the rare instances where his love for his family burns out and gives way to pure embittered hatred. Because even ten years after the six subjects have been taken out of those rooms they’re still living with the consequences, onset by days where their own bodies betray them and leave them writhing in agony. And Ryouken is helpless to do nothing but wait and watch, because pills can only do so much, and they have to keep living their lives even with the ever present pain. 

Some days are better than others, apparently, but Ryouken wouldn’t know. He’s not the one with extensive nerve damage. Apparently, some days they’re only a little more sensitive than normal people, and those are the good days. Others, like today for Miyu, every brush and every breeze feels like fishhooks dug into their skin and started pulling from their bones. 

_‘It could be worse_.’ Miyu told him once, when she first came to live in the mansion with him, the second child he found. Living with an overbearing mother that only became worse after her kidnapping, before simply typically overbearing and now only one step better than a dragon hoarding princess. One that Miyu would have done anything to escape, so she took the chance on Ryouken and never looked back. But with her came the realization that pain would follow her everywhere still. Spectre never made these pains obvious to him, and he let them go completely unnoticed before her. And it was only when he was collecting her medical records that he was even made aware of the possibility, because while before he objectively knew that they must be damaged, Spectre’s seemingly good health and his own denial somehow left him ignorant. Because he wanted the six of them to be okay, because he wanted them to be safe and happy, to move on from this awful event in their lives and burn that peace of their past until it was nothing but cool ashes forgotten by time. Because he wanted them to be alright. Because he wanted to have saved them. But her medical records were a bitter reminder that there was no moving on from what happened to them, not physically. And Miyu had long accepted that with a wary sigh and realistic optimism. ‘ _I could have come out with heart damage. Overall, the doctors say I’m lucky. I’ll live past my thirties_.’

Suzukage wouldn’t.

There’s no record of how many duels, exactly, the six children each participated in. Nor is there a record of their win to loss ratio. Drones had probably measured how well they’d done each day, then whipped clean the records. Or, perhaps, there was never a count. Perhaps the rewards and lost system was a fallacy, and no matter how well the children had done they were never going to be given the right amount of food for their progress. Perhaps each day one of the people who’d raised him selected a child at random and decided they got more food today than the others. And the children, unable to rationalize anything else, decided that it must be their fault, that it was because they lost too much. Or maybe Ryouken is just looking to somehow place more blame anywhere else. He doesn’t know, all he knows is there is no record of the win to loss ratio for the children. But, if he were to guess, he would say that Suzukage lost more duels than Spectre and Miyu, because he _did_ suffer heart damage. 

Or maybe his body just couldn’t take the stress Spectre’s and Miyu’s could, and he didn’t actually lose any more than them. Whatever the case, Suzukage has severe heart conditions that need constant care and attention if _he_ wants to live past his thirties. It’s another source of endless anxiety for Ryouken, because at the same time Suzukage constantly wants to eat junk food. 

‘ _I do constant cardio, take pills, and eat Spectre’s shitty health food diet for me all the time_.’ He’ll always claim when he comes back with a batch of fries and a hotdog, ‘ _Let me live a little while I can_.’

Filled with a sudden bout of restlessness, Ryouken stands up, going to fill his glass with water again just to have something to do. He hasn’t been as neglectful of Spectre’s or the other’s health since Miyu brought this harsh reality to his attention, bringing in the most talented doctors he could afford, and finding certified therapists, all of whom he did extensive background checks for. But still, in times like these he feels like it’s not enough.

Don’t die before I can find you all, he begs. He’s a proud man, and it’s seldom he begs for anything. But he’ll beg for this, he’ll even pray if he needs to. Just give him this, just let him find them all and keep them for as long as he can. 

_~~Give him to me, Playmaker, let me have him before he’s gone.~~ _

“Soooooo?” Suzukage, ever the one to try and lighten the mood, or at least try to with his irreverent attitude, drums the counter. “Speaking of that food truck, you didn’t happen to see it on the way here, did you? I really, really, want a hot dog.”

“We did, actually.” Zaizen answers, tilting her head towards the boy. “The owner is set up at the boardwalk today.”

“Oh, that’s greeeeeeeeat.” Suzukage perked up, smiling triumphantly, “I was hoping! You just can’t tell when it will be here or not. No pattern _at all_ , I swear.”

Miyu tilts her head again, a smile forming on her lips, “The mystery makes the hotdogs better.”

“Organization would make the hotdogs better.” Spectre criticizes, nose already wrinkling. 

“No, Miyu is right, it’s the mystery.” Suzukage insists, half just to disagree with Spectre and half because he honestly believes it. “It’s like a little unexpected treat. You’ll _never_ know if you have a chance to get it or not. It makes the dogs all the better.”

“It’s a terrible business model.” Spectre sniffs, nose in the air. 

“No, it’s genius.” Suzukage insists passionately, “It only makes me want the hotdogs _more_ when I see the truck, because who knows if I’ll get a chance to get them tomorrow.”

“I’d like a hotdog, if you’re going to get them.” Miyu smiles, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand. Spectre looks absolutely betrayed at her words, but she only shrugs, smiling lightly at him, “He’s right about the boardwalk thing. But I’ll settle for staring out of our windows.”

“Are we all getting hotdogs now?” Ryouken decides to join in, smirking as his eyes set on Suzukage, “I’ll take one to go, don’t forget to grab a coffee too.”

“Ughh, why do I have to go get them?” Suzukage complains loudly, gesturing towards Spectre, “He’s already got shoes on.”

“I refuse to demean myself by giving that establishment business.” Spectre turns his nose up at the offer, “If you want hotdogs so bad, go get them yourself.”

“Right, right, the peasant must go retrieve his own commoner food.” Suzukage, ever mocking, couldn’t resist another jab. “Poor Spectre, too rich to eat normal food like normal people. Too pretentious. He'll get hives if he tries.”

“We live in the same house.” Spectre points out, only to go ignored as Suzukage raises from the table, kicking his stool in. 

“Look at it this way.” Miyu smiles at Suzukage, playing with the edges of her pink pajamas. “Maybe the mystery guy will be there.”

Suzukage looked skyward at those words, whispering silently to himself, “Who are you, mystery guy? Why are you always wearing your uniform in fuck you degree whether next to a grill? What are you doing? Why are you always at the food truck? What are your waifish secrets?”

“Maybe he’s an employee?” Ryouken had no idea who the mystery guy was, or why Suzukage was so fixated on him, but he was willing to indulge if it meant that the boy was going to get his coffee and hotdog.

“No way, he’s never working the grill.” Teal eyes narrow suspiciously, “My newest theory is mob boss. Obviously the food truck is his front.”

“I would know if there was a mob boss in the area.” Ryouken shot down, because he made damn sure there were, in fact, no mob bosses or other such criminals located or active in the area before he moved them into his house.  
  


“Litch King it is, then.” Suzukage nodded to himself. “It’s why his hoodie is always up, he can’t touch the sunlight. The food truck guy is his keeper.”

“Or he likes hot dogs.” Zaizen sighed, shooing Suzukage away, “Bring back the food soon.”

“Fine, fine.” Suzukage grumbles, walking backwards out the kitchen, “But when the mystery guy makes me part of his legion of undead, I’m coming back to eat all of you first.”

“And I’m sure my junk food free body will taste delicious, now shoo. Away with you, pest.” Specter waves him off, and Suzukage flips him the bird as he backs out of sight. Spectre stares after him for a few more moments, waiting for him to be gone long enough to be deemed out of hearing range, before turning to grin at Zaizen, “Should we tell him that mystery guy is just a classmate of yours doing homework?”

“Let him have his fun.” Zaizen waves him off, and Spectre looks positively delighted by the idea.

“That’s mean.” Miyu’s lips quirk, “And a little funny.”

“The boy once claimed the food truck owner was a werewolf. He knows it’s not true, let him have his fun.” Ryouken waved, settling back in his seat again at long last. 

The conversation dies down after that. Or at least it does for Ryouken. The others change topics to something else, drifting towards the living room and away from standing around the kitchen, setting Miyu down on the couch so she didn’t have to move or put effort into standing. Normally, Spectre was ever by Ryouken’s side, but with Zaizen here he would sometimes drift after her, joining in on her and Miyu’s time together. It was just as well to Ryouken, he was hardly clingy with any of them, and the more time his housemates spent with each other, the better. So long as he knew they would come back to him later he was fine. 

Besides, he had work to do, and he didn’t want Specter or the others anywhere near the knights.

Ryouken takes a moment, mentally preparing himself for what he’s about to do. Then he stands, feet pattering against the hardwood floor, making his way to his docking station. If Playmaker knew where Subject 006 was, then it was time to stop playing around.

* * *

Most days, Aoi spends her time after school as Blue Angel. 

She doesn’t neglect her homework, it all gets done. But it is relatively simple work for her, and she has plenty of time to dedicate to her online persona. Besides, she often justifies to herself, her brother owns the copyright for Blue Angel’s image, so she makes a lot of money off the merchandise her avatar sells. Really, it’s just like having a job.

What time she isn’t spending as Blue Angel, on her self appointed days off, she spends with Miyu and Spectre. They’re her friends, after all, and the only people she can say she truly bonds with. Not that she isn’t friends with Suzukage and Ryouken, or the members of her duel club, but she’s closer to these two than anyone else. Close enough that she can feel comfortable sharing secrets.

The only other person in her life she cares as deeply for is her brother. But there’s a distance there, brought about by his stress and his work and his wanting to protect her. He’s scared of...something. She knows he is, but she’s not sure what. 

Poverty, most likely. She knows they skirted the line of starvation before. Her brother tried to hide how bad it truly got from her, but the older she grew, the more she started to realize just how close to homelessness they had been, and how much her brother hid how stressed he’d been. 

It awes her when she thinks about how selfless her brother had been in that regard. He was only sixteen, and they were alone, and he took up work he didn’t like, work that could have hurt him, and took care of her. He did it all without her ever even knowing just how close to the edge they had been. And he did it all without ever snapping at her despite how stressed he had to have been. 

She loves her brother, she always has, and she always will. But growing up and realizing just how much her brother had given up for her makes her love develop both a profound gratefulness...and a profound frustration, because she’ll never be able to repay him.

She wants to help her brother, it’s one of the few things she’s ever wanted. But her brother, for all he loves her, doesn’t seem to trust her to help him now that she’s grown. 

And maybe it’s a habit he’s developed from being forced to be both sibling and parent for so long, from so young, but he’s protective without being trusting. He doesn’t seem to realize she can stand beside him and not behind him. He doesn’t seem to realize she’s grown up and can share the burden with him. That she can make his life better too, if he would just trust her to help him. 

So when her phone buzzes, she’s at first puzzled, because Akira is the only person who would call her that’s not in this room, and he knows she’s with Miyu at the moment. 

Then she checks her phone. 

**Unknown Number** : _I helped Playmaker break into SOLtech’s systems. Sorry honey! Don’t tell your brother it was me. <3 _

Emma, what have you done?

“I need to log into Vrains.” She says, dropping her phone and pulling out her headset right on the cough. “Watch my body.”

“What’s going on?” Miyu asked, alarmed as her eyes went wide, hand clutching her chest. Spectre stood at attention, frowning deeply.

“I’m going to catch Playmaker.” She said, and didn’t offer anything else before she slipped into the Vrains.

* * *

**Bonus** :

_“I told you not to get involved.” Playmaker grabbed his shoulders roughly, shoving him against the wall. “They’re dangerous, you’ll get hurt.”_

_“You can’t stop me.” Fujiki’s glare met Playmaker’s own, green against green as they locked into battle. “I may not be a good duelist, but I know my way around the network. You can’t stop me from getting involved.”_

_Playmaker growled, frustrated painting his features. He scowled, lips twisting as the grip on Fujiki’s shoulders tightened into a bruising grip, “Why do you need to do this? Why can’t you just stay away? So you’re safe.”_

_“Three things.” Fujiki slapped the taller man’s hands away, his glare fierce and cutting as the sharpest of knives, and twice as cold as the deepest of winters. He was a wintered beauty, one not all the blizzards in the world could equal, and Playmaker was strong in the face of everything but this brilliant winter storm. “One, you’re all alone out there, without backup, they’ll eventually catch you. Two, I may be untalented with dueling, but I am hardly helpless. Three…”_

_The blue haired boy’s voice trailed off at the last point, his voice going soft before dying into silence._

_“It doesn’t matter.” Playmaker shook his head, the flaming locks falling into his eyes, “Can’t you see? I’m trying to protect you. So back off and stopped getting involved. You’re just getting in the way.”_

_The hero of Vrains turned away, his back to the smaller boy. But Fujiki was not one to be ignored or denied. His hand latched out like a striking viper, hand catching the other’s wrist and forcing him to turn back towards him._

_“I’m no damsel waiting in a tower for you.” Fujiki’s eyes burn cold, solid as ice and twice as deadly, “We stand together or we work apart, but you can’t keep me from getting involved. Nothing will. They’ve already made me their target, and I won’t stand idly by wondering when they’re coming for me.”_

_“Then trust that I can protect you.” Playmaker demanded, the deep frustration leaking into his voice again. “I’ll be your knight, your protector, and you’ll never have to worry again.”_

_“Until you’re the one getting hurt.” Fujiki shook his head, “No one man can stand forever, no matter how great.”_

_“I can if it’s for you.” Playmaker insisted, hands reaching out, finding Fujiki’s upper arms and sliding upwards again. “I can for you.”_

_The tension was thick between them, two stubborn storms of ice and fire forever locked in combat, a glacier and a volcano meeting at last. Both forces of nature that couldn’t be stopped. And, as forces of nature are want to do, they collide, lips meeting lips and tongues battling for tongues for dominance as hands roamed all over their bodies. They poured into the kiss, tension and frustrations and an overload of emotion fueling them further and further was fingers carded through hair, or slid worshipfully over toned muscles._

_When finally the need for air grew to great Fujiki pulled away, gasping for breath, “...three, I love you.”_

“I am literally begging you to fucking stop.” Shima moaned, tears burning his eyes as he clutched his bag between his two hands. He looked ready to faint, and did at least fall against the back of the lunch bench. He groaned loudly, like hearing all this had somehow poisoned him. “I am god damned begging you.”

“What, you don’t like it?” Spectre grinned, lowering the papers from his face, mischiefly eyeing his lunch buddy. “But I wrote it especially for you.”

“It was very intense.” Aoi complimented. The narration was a little flowery for her taste, but it was very good. “My only complaint is that it seems a bit...strange...to write such things about our classmate. Playmaker is an avatar, but I doubt Fujiki would approve.”

“That is not the only problem here.” Shima’s entire face was red, whether from embarrassment or something else, Aoi did not care to know. “It’s...it’s…!”

“Everything you ever fantasized about?” Spectre finished for him, knowing very well that’s not what Shima was going to say. He slid the papers over, tucking them into Shima’s lunchbox. “Here, you can read the rest of it at home. Or share it with Fujiki if he wants!”

“No!” Shima jerked upward, eyes wide and face even redder now. “What the fuck Spectre?”

“Anything to help you realize your dream.” Spectre stated oh-so-innocently, throwing her a wink before going back to his own lunch. “It’s the closest you’ll ever be to either of them romantically!”

  
  
“Piss off!” Shima screeched loudly. “You’re evil Spectre! Fucking evil! The worst of the worst!”

“I try.” Spectre stated proudly, talking a bite of his lunch.

Shima spent the rest of their lunch period screeching at the blonde, but Aoi noticed he didn’t exactly throw away the fanfiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I waited a whole three days this time!
> 
> After two chapters of ghosting, Ryouken finally comes back with a vengeance. And with him are his beloved housemates, his deep seated issues and anxieties, more medical issues, Miyu on a bad day, and reasonable fears. 
> 
> Also Suzukage shit talking everyone, because apparently that's who he is. I didn't write him, he wrote himself. 
> 
> No, but seriously, someone save the Lost Incident Kids from me, because they clearly need it. 
> 
> Next chapter we're finally going to get some action after a whole lot of buildup, and you guys are going to need to hold on to your hates because I'm going to take you on a ride. Blame Emma for this, because this is all her fault, that's all the foreshadowing I'll give you. 
> 
> At least Spectre is mostly happy, he got to see Shima suffer today.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**Verschlimmbessern** (German): To make something worse when trying to improve it.

* * *

It was a well established fact to anyone used to working in Vrain’s hacking circles that trusting Ghost Girl was like a game of Russian Roulette. More often than not you’ll win, but every contact with her is a gamble, and you never can tell for sure when you’re going to lose. 

Yusaku isn’t unfamiliar with navigating and working with Ghost Girl. Not as Playmaker, per se, but there have been times when Shoichi would venture out as Unnamed and contacted the infamous information broker. And there have been instances where he’s brushed by her as Unknown, she being one of the few that was vaguely aware of him before he became Playmaker. For him, she’s been oddly reliable, always proving to be a stronger ally than a hindrance even as she teased and threatened betrayal.

He doesn’t think it’s sentiment, or fondness. He doubts she thinks so much of the past as to invest any care or memory to it. He’s an investment, he supposes. One that caught Ghost Girl’s eye because of the things he was doing in the underbelly of Vrains during the last two years. He is a blimp in monotony, something different from the normal hackers, brookers, illegal traders, and other vagabouts that crept about their circles. A fresh breeze in an endless smog of rot, a brief relief, something to brush away the stench for a second. But only for a second, a mere moment, because a breeze will carry the stench that surrounds it eventually, and it will fade into the background, and it loses it’s only worth. 

He can trust Ghost Girl for however long she finds him interesting, because he’s surely not actually profitable enough to stand against SOLtech and whatever she gains from working with them. So this mission is a gamble, her interest in him verses the profit she could earn against betraying him.

He’s betting on betrayal. 

Better to be paranoid, that’s the greatest lesson he’s learnt over the years. One that was practiced and honed by betrayals, and one that’s proven to be wise. He hasn’t been surprised or hurt once since he’s learned to lean towards caution. And, from a purely logical standpoint, being prepared for betrayal from Ghost Girl makes more sense than trusting her notoriously fickle nature. It’s a well known fact in the Dark Web that the only employer she’ll never betray is Zaizen Akira. 

Zaizen Akira, who he is technically asking her to work against. Directly asking her to not only turn her eye towards a superior paycheck, but also against the one man in the world that had somehow, mysteriously, captured her loyalty. It was sure to be an end to their working relationship, and he was prepared for it.

Playmaker dipped his board, surfing through the red and pink walls that made up SOLtech’s apparent back door. Ai shook nervously in the duel disk, his eye narrowed with every near impact with a wall. “Please drive safely!”

“Shut up.” He commands, squashing down the pang of sympathy he feels for it. He needed to focus on getting through the over complicated security, not on the fabricated anxieties of his hostage. He wouldn’t crash, this was something he was certain of. Riding the wind was the one thing he couldn’t fail. It came as naturally to him as breathing, and it would by far be the easiest part of his mission. 

He’s waiting for the part where security shows up.

It’s going oddly smoothly thus far, however, which is suspicious. He knows for a fact that if Ghost Girl has betrayed him there will be something between him and his goal. He was counting on the security AI they’ve been mass producing lately, but the emptiness around him feels ominous. Like the eye of a storm. 

There’s trouble brewing, he trusts his instincts too much to believe otherwise.

But what? 

If it’s not the security AI, then something a bit more brutal must be waiting for him. Perhaps they’re hoping to take him out in one powerful blow rather than with their swarms of security. He’d have to be on guard. But he’s confident in his ability, he’s sure whatever plan Zaizen Akira and Ghost Girl had cooked up together wouldn’t be enough for his layers and layers of security measures.

He’s also confident in Shoichi’s ability to fish him out if all goes wrong. 

But, if all goes well, and he’s certain it will, then he and Ai should be leaving here with whole patches of his data restored and a name for his target. 

A name. After then terrible, aching, uncertain years of not knowing. After a decade of watching his back and jumping at his shadow and being uncertain whether or not one of his foster parents was involved. He was finally, finally, going to have a name to put to his metaphorical boogeyman. And from a name came a face, and once the nightmare had a face…

It doesn’t stop being a nightmare, but a face helps. A face gave him a target, a name made him human. And though Yusaku learned at the tender age of six that humans were more terrifying than any monster, he also had enough rage inside of him to fight back. 

“Almost there.” Yusku mutters to himself, not allowing himself to get lost in those particular thoughts. He was almost there, and he hadn’t ran into security once. It was almost like the plan he and Ghost Girl made was working, like her back door and Shoichi’s efforts to conceal him were enough to get him in without much more than his skill riding the network.

It makes him suspicious.

“This is too easy.” He warns Ai, making the calculated risk of sharing his suspicions. 

“Eh?” The eyeball peers up at him, narrowed with confusion. “It’s that the point of this whole thing? To get in a get out easy peasy? That was the plan, right?”

That was the plan on paper, but things on paper don’t often work with practical application. On paper didn’t include Ghost Girl’s messy relationships with her work, or Yusaku’s infamously bad luck with trust, or the flaring suspicion that something should be happening. He hums, eyes narrowing as he swerves around another vibrant pink corner, taking the last turn before they broke through the mainframe. 

So, of course, that’s where things go wrong. 

He’s not sure what he was expecting to wait for him, but it wasn’t Blue Angel. 

Playmaker jumps from his board, landing on his feet on the rounded mainframe, the information he wants tantalizingly swirling in a tower behind her back. He eyes it for a moment before letting his eyes fall back to the angel themed avatar, wondering what she was doing here. It couldn’t have been even three hours since he was talking to the girl behind that face, standing in their school’s duel club, her friends teasing each other. From what little he picked up from her, he thought she was going to spend time with them, not guard a secure server within SOLtech’s systems. How did she even…

Ah. Seems Ghost Girl was playing a game of her own. She’s betraying him without betraying him. Helping Zaizen, but not outright selling out Playmaker. Or, maybe, there’s some other goal she has in mind by setting this up, something only she has the context to understand. Either way, Yusaku doubts Zaizen Akira set up Blue Angel to deal with this, Not when he had plenty of others at his disposal. 

“Blue Angel.” He greets, stepping forward. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“ _Ehhh_? Blue Angel?” Ai peered at her, then up at the information lingering in the background, lamenting loudly, “We were so cloooooooose. Now I have to waaaaaaait.”

Blue Angel’s eyes settle on Ai, narrowing at the sight of him. Her lips purse, like a disappointed mother on those old shows they played back when he was in recovery elementary. Her eyes flickered back up to Playmaker’s face, hands finding her hips as she decided to speak, “Playmaker, I was warned you’d be here.”

“And you wish to stop me?” Playmaker nodded, stating the obvious for the both of them, if only to keep the two of them from beating around the bush. He’s never been a fan of wasting time dancing around a subject.

“Yes.” Seems that without a camera around she’s always quick to cut to the chase as well. “But first I want to know why you’re here. This is highly illegal, Playmaker.”

“I doubt you have permission to be here yourself, Blue Angel.” He says in lieu of an answer, holding up his wrist so his duel disk, and more importantly Ai, were facing her. “Seems you’re the one playing the vigilante now.”

The girl quiets at that, eyes still on he and Ai, who is still watching the data swirling behind her hungrily. She shifts in place, frowning deeply at him, “Does that make you the villain this time, Playmaker?”

“No.” He answers simply, green eyes flickering towards the data. It was so close, and it held all the answers he needed. It was the closest he’s ever come to actually finding satisfying answers. Once he reaches that data he’ll have an idea who he’s facing beyond avatars, possibly an identity for the mysterious leader of the Hanoi. Once he has a name he can track them down, find answers, find him. 

He’s so close to vengeance he can taste it. So close to peace of mind that he can feel it on his skin. All he has to do is reach it and let Ai loose. 

“I can practically taste it.” Ai groaned, eyeing the spiral like a man finding religion. “Hey! Blue Angel! We’re the good guys too, right? That makes us all friends! Enemy of my enemy and all that! So just let us through nice and easy and we’ll be on our way!”

A finely plucked brow hit her hairline, her hands still on her hips as she practically stared down Ai judgmentally. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Ohhhhh, why not?” Ai whined. 

“Because I can’t just let you steal information.” Now Blue Angel was acting perk again, winking at I and wagging her finger at him, “Besides! You’re a wanted man Mr. AI, you and Playmaker both! And it’s my duty to help out SOLtech however I can!”

“Oh no.” Ai groaned, honestly disappointed. “Can’t you just let us through? I promise we’re not bad guys!”

“Nope!” She winks at him again, wagging that finger. “Sorry Mr. AI, but I don’t go around believing strangers!”

“Oh _come on_!”

Playmaker frowned, wondering at her change of attitude. Was she putting on a show again? And, if she was, for who? And who was recording? 

Three possibilities. One, Ghost Girl was obviously playing her own game, and it’s very possible that she’s here and has a plan with Blue Angel. Two, perhaps Zaizen Akira did ask his sister to help him guard the network. Three, perhaps Blue Angel is live streaming now.

None of the options pleased him very much. 

“Alright!” She points at him dramatically, a bright smile on her face, “In the name of SOLtech, I have to punish you for intruding! So let’s duel, Mr. Playmaker!”

  
  
“I take it there’s no possible way I can reason with you?” He asked dully, green eyes settling on her again. She’s a talented duelist, from what he’s observed of her, but he’s confident he can win. Because losing simply wasn’t an option, it hasn’t been since he was six years old, and it especially isn’t now that answers are within his grasp. But, even then, he still doesn’t want to fight her, if only because she’s an average girl with a relatively normal life that simply doesn’t know what she’s getting involved in right now. 

“Sorry Mr. Playmaker! But I’ve got to win!” She bounces from one foot to another, winking at him and smiling wide. “Now let’s duel!”

Her duel disk activates, and he knows that there’s no getting out of this now. He sighs, letting his own duel disk activate as Ai groans loudly. “Alright then, don’t regret this Blue Angel.”

“How can I regret this when I’m so sure I’m going to win?” She winks again, pointing towards the sky, “I’m the champion of SOLtech!”

“That’s not something you should be proud of.” Ai shouts at her, eyeball narrowing. “You’d know that if you took a peek behind you!”

For the first time since he arrived, Blue Angel pauses, her face uncertain for a moment. But she brushes it off quickly, her persona back in place, “No mean distractions Mr. AI! We play fair here!”

“SOLtech has never played fair with anything ever!” Ai shouted right back, “They’re a corporation! They sustain themselves off unfairness! I bet they don’t even let their electronic store cashiers sit down! That’s one of the most evil things you can do you know!”

  
  
“Let’s start.” Playmaker commands, cutting off the argument before it can devolve. His goal is within reach, and he’s running out of patience. “You go first.”

“Will do!” Blue Angel beams, drawing her cards, duel disk lighting up as their battle began.

* * *

Ema was a lot of different things at a lot of different times, but she never considered herself amoral.

She has a bit of a reputation, you see. Because she’s a gorgeous, smart, woman. And a fairly decent duelist. And a much better hacker. And a gorgeous, smart, woman with all these talents is bound to make some enemies, especially in her line of work. 

She’s gained something of a reputation for betraying her employers, you see.

That isn’t to say she’s someone that will sell out her employer to the highest bidder at a moment’s notice. She isn’t that person, despite her sordid reputation. Rather, the mysterious force that drives her isn’t actually her wallet at all. She was actually a rather simple creature if one took the time to pay attention and examine her actions. You see, she was, unfortunately, born with a moral compass. 

A terrible tragedy, really.

But, yes, she was burdened with having something like morals. Strong ones at that. And maybe they didn’t line up with what was typical of most polite society, but they were hers, and they were hard won, and they were even good for the most part. And, most importantly, they were strong morals too.

So, of course, when she first set eyes on a sad, clearly traumatized, clearly preteen, vigilante running around the Dark Web, hacking information, and beating the ever loving shit out of jackasses, her first thought had been something akin to, _‘Why is there a child running around doing this? Where are his parents? Where are the police? Dear god someone stop him, this isn’t a place children should be. There are traffickers and pedophiles and all sorts of scum and incels here_.’

Then she saw his face and her second thought had been, quite clearly, ‘ _Yusaku, you little bastard! You’re not even hiding your face, I taught you better than this_.’ 

Her third thought went a little something like this, ‘ _My former foster brother is running around the Dark Web as a vigilante and I don’t know whether to be proud or drag him out by his ear_.’

Lastly, ‘ _Is this my fault or did his creepy therapist somehow convince him this was a good idea?_ ’

She never quite had the courage to pursue that line of knowledge. There’s a lot she wanted to say, and a lot more she wasn’t sure whether or not she should say. If you counted the months in her life she’s lived, that kid had barely made up any part of it. Six months seems like a long time, until you added it against the twenty-some years she’s breathed. And it was even shorter for him, a child who went through families like most children went through candy bars, being hoped from one to another with little regard. For her, he was a brief but memorable part of her life, a part of it she remembered fondly and lovingly, because for a time she had someone besides her mother she gave a damn about. A traumatized little thing, quiet, not quite out of hope yet but teetering on the edge. A broken little bird that she couldn’t help but fall in love with for the short time she had him. 

And the ridiculous amount of money SOLtech dropped them for raising him helped too. That money made it easy to pay bills for a long, long, time after he was gone. But that just sweetened the deal, really. Mostly Ema just liked Yusaku. He was a sweet child. Very quiet. Very respectful. Ate anything she put in front of him. He was very well behaved for a child some eight years younger than her. Which was part of the trauma he had to see the therapist for, she thinks. Clearly an abuse victim of some sort. Probably from someone in SOLtech she considered at the time. Either way, her heart melted for the kid, and she honestly wanted to keep him. But, SOLtech does as SOLtech will, and it found her mother “too encouraging of unacceptable habits” and packed him up and moved him on. And Ema had cried bitter tears over it the whole night after he was taken.

He was a fond part of her life, but she’ll never forget the way he merely sighed in disappointment and soullessly asked when he was leaving after they broke the news to him. A child too used to being moved. He’s been through this dozens of times before.

She doubts he even remembers her. 

But, regardless, she wasn’t just going to not keep an eye out on the kid she used to know. So of course she started working with him on and off after that.

Strictly professionally, of course.

And if he’s somewhat known as being her kid in the Dark Web after that, then that’s no one’s business but hers and his and theirs. It just meant that no predators tried anything with him while he was busy being a mini-vigilante. Not that they could, because he’s very good at beating people up apparently (she’s so _proud_ ), but it never hurts to be safe. Besides, it’s not like anyone is stupid enough to try and involve a kid that’s basically torn apart a huge chunk of the Dark Web by himself (so, _so_ , proud), and has her backing, and the backing of another hacker that also tore apart a good bit of those terrorists, into underground drama. So it’s all fine. Unknown basically became untouchable in seedy circles and that’s probably good sisterly duty on her part.

Then he went and became an outright superhero.

Or, rather, he went from being a sensible vigilante who kept his head down to a very public one. And now Zaizen is after him and she’s been saddled with conflicting loyalties.

“The man I marked as my future husband and my foster brother are on two sides of a different fence.” She groans through her mask, kicking her feet as she watches Blue Angel and Playmaker duel it out down below. “I just can’t have my Sugar Daddy beat up my tiny protege, or vice versa.”

If Akira were here he’d spit blood hearing her say something like that, especially since he doesn’t exactly know he’s going to be her future husband one day. She has to boyfriend him first. Then fiance him. Then put a ring on it. 

But that’s beside the point. 

The real point of all this is, Blue Angel is most certainly going to lose this duel.

It’s not that Aoi isn’t a skilled duelist! She is! One of the best there is. But it’s just that...well...Yusaku has been tearing apart the underworld for the better part of two years now, and Ema has seen him duel and she knows how relentless he can be when he has his eyes set on the prize. And he’s got the biggest prize of his life right now. 

But he wasn’t brutal with people who weren’t scum, so Aoi would be fine.

That wouldn’t stop Akira from coming to Aoi’s rescue after he found Ema’s message. If she timed it right, and she knows she did, then Yusaku should have plenty of time to beat Aoi and get his information right before Akira showed up.

Now, the challenging part would be keeping Yusaku from logging out before they could have a little family discussion. But Ema is confident she can control the situation. She just had to wait for everything to come to fruition. 

And if this ship crashed and burned? 

Well, sometimes a little drama was good for the soul.

Violet eyes locked onto the duel, watching two people she honestly cared about fight because of her. But she didn’t feel guilty. No, on the contrary, this would be character building for the both of them. Aoi really did need to handle this whole strangeness she had with her brother, and realizing that SOLtech was infamously sketchy (to people like her, who knew the underbelly of the online community and held something of a personal grudge against the company, thanks for the tears SOLtech). And Yusaku, well, sometimes it was just good to challenge him in general. 

She watched the duel play out, observing both teens with a critical eye. They really were very good, though Playmaker should work on his showmanship. Although, the bad boy mystery man thing did work for him she supposes. It’s really impressive considering he’s wearing green and has red hair. Fashion, it appears, was not something he retained from her.

~~And to think, there were whole forms dedicated to self-insert fanfictions of this boy.~~

Actually...was that something she should be proud of? She’ll have to think more on that later, it looks like the duel was coming to an end. 

Ema leaned forward just a bit, watching impatiently.

* * *

It’s not a long duel, but it was hard fought. Yusaku could respect that. Blue Angel was as desperate to win as he, and just as stubborn. Ripping victory from her hands was no easy task. But he had more to lose, and a lot more fear of losing. So in the end his fear and his will together snatched him a hard earned victory.

Blue Angel cries out as the last of her life points tick down to zero, artificial blue eyes watching wide and horrified, mouth agape. She falls to her knees, staring blankly ahead in horrified silence.

“We won!” Ai cheered, ignoring Blue Angel’s despair. Yusaku felt his arm vibrate from Ai’s trembling excitement. But he ignored tht, letting the AI stew in his excitement while he checked on the girl. He stepped forward, frowning deeply. “Blue Angel?”

She snapped out of her stupor, throwing herself up and throwing her arms out wide. She scolded him fiercely, squaring her stance as she stood between him and the data. “I won’t let you through Playmaker!”

“I won the duel fairly.” He reminds her, stopping his approach. 

“I don’t know what you want with it, but that data is the property of SOLtech, and I won’t let you compromise it.” She hissed, glare still leveled at him. “It’s not yours to take!”

He stopped, refraining from clicking his tongue. His gaze did level with her, unimpressed. But he was willing to extend a bit more patience with her given the circumstances, “I won’t destroy anything, but you cannot stop me from taking what I need.”

He moves to step around her, but she’s moving to throw herself in front of him, arms out in a wide arc, “ _No_!”

That willingness to extend his patience is starting to dwindle now, an impatience bubble from both he and Ai as she keeps denying him his hard earned right to his prize. So he levels a glre of his own on the girl, lips twitching into a snarl. “Move.”

“ _You_ move!” Blue Angel snaps, refusing to do as he commanded. She met him near nose to nose, her glare meeting his, fury burning between them. “You don’t have a right to that information!”

“I have every right.” He defends, annoyance sparking in him. He kept his tone purposely even, but rage was spreading through his veins like a burning venom. Who was she, Zaizen Aoi, to tell him that he had no right to this? She was a girl uninvolved, just an average girl. This victory was hard won, that information his to take. It has been since he was six years old and told that those responsible for the permanent aches and pains of his body had escaped. It has been since he sat in a hospital bed without memory of the past. It has been since he looked at the other children and realized his voice of hope wasn’t there anymore. If anyone had a right to that information it was he and the other victims of the incident.

“No you don’t!” Blue Angel yelled, hands balling into fists. “I won’t let you take it!”

“You already lost, what more can you do?” Playmaker asks her, frowning. He sidesteps her, moving around her and walking towards the spiral of information. He’s done here. There’s nothing anyone can do to stop him.

But Blue Angel still seems there’s a chance to keep him from reaching his goal. She yells loudly, throwing herself at his back, arms wrapping around his neck and feet dangling from the ground as she latches herself on his back. “ _No_! I’m not letting you ruin their lives!”

One thing he preferred about Vrains over the real world was that, here at least, his body wasn’t always aching. Here, in the virtual world, he could walk without pain, stand with aching, and just breath without rattling bones. It’s what he imagines feeling normal is like. And, sometimes, when the pain is too unbearable in the real world, and he can’t sleep, he’ll slip on the headset and escape into this place where his body doesn’t betray him until the worst has passed. It’s a sad way to live his life, perhaps, but it’s the best way he has to cope with the pain. 

That said, it wasn’t like physical sensations were muted in Vrains, and the system simulated sensations as best it could. While it didn’t seem to recognize his nerve damage, that did not stop the fact that he was still unused to being physically touched by anyone, so his whole body is overwhelmed. His skin almost burns, and his brain nearly burns out by the sheer inability to process what is happening. 

“Get off!” He demands, reaching up to knock off her arms, but her grip is firm, and she stubbornly refuses to let go.

“No!” She shouts in his ear, loud and desperate and angry. “I lied! I know exactly what you want! And I’m not letting you do it!”

What in the world did this girl think he was trying to do? Does she even know what information he’s after? What does she think he's trying to accomplish? Destroying all of SOLtech? Even he’s not that ambitious. “Oh?”

“I won’t let you.” Her fists tighten, hands jerking his body back, trying her damnedest to knock him off his feet. He steels himself, not letting her knock him down. But she’s stubborn as he is, still using her whole body as leverage, throwing it back and using its weight as a weapon against him.

“Can we _please_ stop now!” Ai cries out, eyeball on the prize still. “Come on! At this point you’re just being a brat!”

“I’m not.” Blue Angel denies, gritting her teeth. “I’ve got people to protect! And I don’t care what your goals are, I’m not letting you hurt them for it.”

Her brother would be a sort of casualty in this, he supposes. The head of security letting such valuable information slip through his fingers into the hands of a wanted hacker and vigilante was something that was sure to leave him on the worst end of his employer’s attention. Demotion would be the best he could ask for. Being outright fired wasn’t out of the realms of possibility. But that was the worst that would happen, and only if the people in charge wanted to get rid of their most competent employee. Still, he could see why that was reason enough for her to fight. He would too, to keep Shoichi safe.

But he was fighting for more than that.

“You can’t stop me.” He slaps her wrists away, knocking her loose just a little. She falls from his shoulders, landing roughly on the ground. She gives a loud yelp, landing on her tailbone, a pained groan leaving her. He ignores her, walking away. 

But she’s quick to compose herself, standing at attention, “I’ve already called backup Playmaker!”

“I’ll be gone by then.” He promises, stepping before the spire. He holds up his hand, Ai’s excitement radiating through their bond as they finally stood within reach. Nothing could stop them now.

Or so he thought, until he was bodily tackled away from the spiral. 

His back hit the ground, a small gasp leaving his lips, body giving a small ache as it landed roughly. Ai let out a wail of despair, angry again that what was in their reach was gone again. Outraged both for himself and through the bond he shared with the Ai, Yusaku peered his eyes open, barely withholding a snarl as he pushed himself onto his elbows, ready to defeat this backup that dared to get in his way. 

Until he saw who stood over him.

Red hair, alien yellow eyes, dangling earring spinning by his long neck, white cloak billowing in the wind. Yusaku has only ever seen Revolver at a distance before, riding the wind and tearing apart the network in an attempt to lure him out. But he’d never let himself fall for it, no matter how tempting it was to reach for the leader of the organization that hurt so many people. No, he’d kept Revolver as a distant figure, an end goal he’d someday reach once he was prepared to take down the Knights of Hanoi in a single strong blow. 

Fighting him so soon wasn’t part of the plan, not now. 

But he would.

His eyes narrowed the slightest bit, and he felt anger burn in him all over again, a living flame in his body, threatening to devour him alive. He pushed himself to a stand, rising to meet the cyber-terrorist head on. “What are you doing here, Revolver?”

Blue Angel’s own eyes were wide on him, face twisted in shock. Whatever backup she called, it wasn’t him. So on top of this unpleasant surprise he could expect more opponents to show up as well. But that was a problem he would need to focus on later. For now he needed to prioritize this. 

“Playmaker.” Revolver’s voice rumbled, deep and low. It made something in him squirm, an itch within his mind, a tingle of familiarity he can’t explain. His hair stood on end, and his skin left goosebumps that hopefully went unnoticed. It was the predatory way he spoke, Yusaku decided. The way he rolled around his username like a viper circling its prey. If that made sense. It doesn’t, he thinks, but his mind is drawing a blank. “How...unsurprising to see you here. And yet, somehow, I find it hard to be shocked you’d go so far.”

“Playmaker! Blue Angel!” Ghost Girl descends from a platform just out of sight, likely having been hiding there the entire time. Whatever her plan had been, it had gone horribly wrong, and she was rushing to their side quickly, eyes widened and hair billowing behind her. She skids to their side, eyes narrowed on Revolver as she throws her arms up defensively in front of them, “Get away from them!”

“Oh?” Revolver smirks, tilting his head, earrings dangling with the movement, “The infamous Ghost Girl becoming defensive over someone that isn’t Zaizen Akira? How terribly rare. Unless…”

“This is none of your business! _Leave_!” Ghost Girl demands in a show of protectiveness that Yusaku honestly didn’t expect. Until he remembers that Blue Angel is Zaizen Aoi, younger sister of Zaizen Akira, and thus protecting her would, of course, be an important goal to the woman.

Revolver didn’t care either way, leveling his gaze on her carefully. “I’m afraid this is very much my business.”

Blue Angel’s fist clenched at her side, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she stepped forward, “No it’s not. You’re the last person who gets to be here.”

“If you think that I’m here for the identity of the victims, I’ll have you know it’s not actually here.” Revolver’s lips spread into a thick smirk that makes his alien avatar look downright demonic. “I’ve already tried before.”

It’s rare that Yusaku loses his temper, despite how grumpy others claim him to be. He’s been too exhausted to express positive emotions, and too controlled to express anger and sorrow. But even he has his limits, and the Lost Incident is his biggest trigger to those terrible emotions that haunt him. So he snaps, pointing accusingly at the man as the anger cuts through his voice, “How dare you? You’d hunt them down again? Hasn’t Hanoi done enough to them?”

Blue Angel flinches, her eyes going wide as she side-eyes him for a moment. He isn’t sure how much she knows, but it’s clear to him that she’s surprised by how personal his stake is. Ghost Girl, perhaps the one person here with the least investment and awareness of the situation, sizes up defensively, her whole body tensing as she unsubtly took another side step to further shield him. 

But Revolver simply hummed, those lidless golden eyes on no one but Playmaker, “So you do know.”

The former victim grit his teeth, barely holding himself back from launching himself at the other man. He didn’t know who was behind that avatar, but he feels himself burn with resentment. Oh, he knew. How could he not know? He was trapped in that room at nights, fixated as one of six, forever. His fist clenched at his sides, trembling. He doesn’t know if he wants to hit the man or not. He’s never been a violent person before, and he’s not a particularly strong one either. He knows very basic self defense moves, but his body is brittle as glass, and entering a fight is something he should save as a last resort. A duel would be much more pragmatic, terrible as dueling was for him. But an instinctual and more animalistic part of him wants to lash out and hit him.

_“ ~~You are not an animal.” A foster brother’s ghostly voice whispers from his memory, “You are frightened, and in pain, and they put you there.”~~ _

“Playmaker.” Ai jolted on his wrist, peering up at him, looking almost concerned, “Calm down, okay? He can’t beat us all. It’s four on one.”

Ai is right. Blue Angel and Ghost Girl are backing him up, and both of them are talented in their own right, even if he had beaten one of them not twenty minutes ago. Three talented duelists and one specifically advanced AI versus one duelist was a fight Revolver wasn’t going to win. And Playmaker wasn’t above making allies out of former enemies if need be. Not if they were the right kind of enemies. 

“I know.” Playmaker challenges, confident that even if he were on his own, he could beat Revolver, plan or no. But with backup he’s more sure than ever they can win. Whatever outside help Revolver has, they can’t possibly beat Shoichi. He’s sure of it. 

Those golden eyes burn into him though, as intense as fire. More so, even. Revolver steps forward, body wound tight with tension as his voice takes a commanding tone, “Then let’s make a deal.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists.” Blue Angel claims from next to him, glaring right into the well known cyber-terrorist. 

But he ignores her, eyes never once leaving Playmaker, “I suggest an exchange of information.”

“Oh?” Ghost Girl tilts her head, voice falsely casual. “Information trading is a specialty of mine. How about I tell you some nice blackmail and you leave these two alone, yeah?” 

But she might as well not have even spoken, Revolver’s eyes never leaving him for even a flicker, “I’ll give you the names of the scientists involved with the experimentation.”

His throat tightens. Ghost Girl sizes up in front of him, and Blue Angel goes rigid at his side. If either hadn’t had a clue what was going on before, then they probably had a good guess now.

Then his mind starts to reel, trying to comprehend what Revolver’s game is. He was the leader of their organization. Was he really willing to sell out his scientist so easily. And, if so, does that mean he hadn’t been personally involved? Or was the Lost Incident so low on the list of priorities that he didn’t care that it was exposed? The thought makes his blood boil for a hot second, but it’s also one he quickly dismisses. No, Revolver wouldn’t have looked for the identity of the victims if that was the case. But if he was really so willing to sell out the scientists…

What was his goal here?

“And what do you want in exchange for this information?” Playmaker demanded, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “And what’s to stop me from beating you here and now and going to SOLtech’s databases instead?”

The terrorist clicks his tongue, earrings still dangling. “Because I know more about them.”

“Heavy information comes with a heavy price.” Ghost Girl stated easily. “Must be quite the paycheck you want for that particular bit of information.”

Revolver humed in response, the first sign he showed that he even realized anyone else but Playmaker was in the room. His eyes drifted to Ai for a moment, taking in the sight of the Ignis almost hungrily. Yusaku, feeling something deep and almost violently protective surge in him, hid the eyeball behind his hand, a physical shield between Ai and that burning gaze. Of course, the AI protested, but he ignored it in favor of meeting the terrorist’s glare head on.

Finally, he answered, holding three fingers up. “I’ll give you three options.”

Yusaku’s brain itched, not liking that the other was using threes. That was...that was for him and him alone. At least while they were here, talking about this. BLue Angel seemed to have similar thoughts, eyes narrowing dangerously as one of Playmaker’s few known habits were used against him.

“One, you can hand over the Ignis.” Revolver held up a single finger.

“Never.” Playmaker growled, ignoring the way Blue Angel and Ghost Girl’s eyes both flickered to the hand covered Ai. 

“I thought not.” Revolver shook his head, earrings dangling again as he flicked up another finger, holding the two digits up to eye level, “Two, you can agree to a ceasefire with the Knights of Hanoi.”

“That goes against everything I’m trying to do.” Playmaker snapped, wondering why the man was even trying to bother with such a fruitless attempt. Surely he knew Playmaker would never willingly agree to such terms.

“So it does.” Revolver’s tone is unsurprised, like even he hadn’t expected it to work, but wanted to try anyway. Another finger flicks up, and he holds the three digits forward and he declares his final demand, “Three, you tell me the identity of the Lost Victim you’re fighting for.”

This time he couldn’t hold back the hiss from leaving his lips, a bitter cold settling into his stomach even as fire spread through his veins again. Blue Angel let out an audible gasp, hands flying over her mouth and eyes going wide. Ah, so she knew more than he thought she had. Surprising, but something he’ll have to focus on later. Because right now his mind was whirling with more important concerns.

He supposes he’s not surprised Revolver had guessed he was personally motivated. Not many people actually knew about the Lost Incident. Ghost Girl’s confusion over the happenings around her were reminder enough of that. But even still, it’s not something he’s happy the leader of his enemies has pieced together. He supposes he should be thankful that he hasn’t pieced together that Playmaker was a victim, small mercies. But even still, he doesn’t like how close the man has gotten.

“Never.” He hisses, taking a threatening step forward. “Your organization will never touch them again.”

Revolver frowns deeply, “I don’t plan to let them.”

“Oh, how very believable.” Ghost Girl states lightly, tilting her head innocently. “It’s not suspicious at all that you’re looking for...whoever you’re looking for.”

“The six children of the Lost Incident.” A new voice cuts through the frey, carefully calm.

The group as one turn to find Zaizen Akira standing before the dataspiral, business suit pressed clean and proper, avatar looking no different than his civilian identity. He’s a crisp and clean man, and younger than anyone in his position should be. He stands there, a deep frown on his face, eyes flickering over the group as he clutches the cane in his hands, “I’m afraid I must ask you all to leave.”

“ _Akira_!” Ghost Girl calls out at the same time Blue Angels gives a relieved cry. 

“Zaizen Akira.” Revolver’s voice drawls dully, his body turning to face the man. “SOLtech’s greatest guard dog.”

“Revolver.” Akira greets politely, nodding his head. “The Knights of Hanoi’s most misguided leader. I can’t say I’m surprised you’ve come here.”

Then his eyes flicker to Playmaker, some of the intensity almost dying as he faces the vigilante, “And Playmaker, I’m even less surprised to see you. I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

“No.” Is all he bothers to say.

“Yeah! We’re not leaving!” Ai cries from beneath his hand, unwilling to keep from commenting. 

The head of security’s eyes flicker to where the AI lay, focused on it for a moment before his eyes flicker back upwards. “I know why you’re here, Playmaker. And I’m asking you, please, not to do this.”

“ _No_.” He says again, wishing people would stop trying to tell him what to do. 

“Playmaker.” Zaizen’s voice just the slightest bit, his eyes flickering back to Revolver for just a moment before going back to him. “It’s too late for Revolver, but I can still keep you from being a target. Please, I know why you’re doing this.”

Yet another person that doesn’t even know his name thinking they know him, knows how he feels. He’s so tired of other people telling him what to do and how to feel. He’s had more than enough of it. More than enough of other people pushing his feelings on him. Haven’t other people taken enough from him? Hanoi took his past. Dr. Lecter took his agency and trust. Now other people were trying to take his feelings? No, he couldn’t accept that. “You know nothing about me.”

“I do.” Zaizen Akira spoke firmly, his eyes locked onto Playmaker’s. “It took a long time, and a lot of digging. But I’ve learned. And now I know.”

“Know what?” Ghost Girl finally demanded, an information broker that knew nothing, more than frustrated with that role. “What is going on?”

“Then years ago, six children were kidnapped and used for terrible experimentation.” Zaizen Akira licked his lips, eyes locked on Playmaker. “I knew one of those children, in a way. But I never met the others. At least, not until today. Am I right, Playmaker?”

He hissed. Behind him Blue Angel gasped again, and he could hear Revolver inhale sharply. “It’s none of your concern.”

“So I am right, you were one of the survivors.” Akira’s hands tightened around the cane. His lips twisted for a moment, then he spoke again, voice laced with sympathy. “I know it must be terribly painful for you. So I’m begging you, stop your quest for vengeance before it’s too late. You can still live a normal life. You can still move on-”

“Don’t tell me when it’s time for me to move on!” Yusaku snaps, finally losing his composure in the face of such exposure. It wasn’t this man’s business what he did with his life. Zaizen didn’t know, he wasn’t involved. He wasn’t the one trapped in that room, he wasn’t the one with nightmares. He wasn’t the one that had to visit Jin in the hospital. He wasn’t the one that lived with electrical shocks over his skin. He wasn’t the one that had to live with the knowledge that he lived where other children may have died.

~~_“Has it ever occurred to you, that the reason the police couldn’t find this other boy, was that he was replaced.” Dr. Lecter’s voice haunts him, a sickening echo now. “There were only six rooms, with six children. It’s possible some may have...perished...and were replaced.”_ ~~

_~~“No.” Yusaku denied, because his voice of hope being dead was the one thing he would never accept.~~ _

“If you think we’ve moved on…” Playmaker starts, but then shakes his head, gritting his teeth. No, he’s not doing this. “Don’t tell me how to feel! Don’t tell me not to be angry!”

“Playmaker-” Zaizen starts, but he’s had enough.

“No.” He hisses, jerking away from all of them, unwilling to listen now. He swings his arm in an arch, reaching for the data spiral, duel disk unhooking as Playmaker risks simply throwing Ai towards it. “I’ve had enough of other people telling me how to move on! Telling me to forget! But I won’t! I’m taking back my life! And I’m starting with that data! Ai, take what you need!”

“ _Finally_!” Ai cries, the data finally in reach as Yusaku physically throws him into the swirling mass. All that is seen for a moment is swirling pixels as the group descends into stunned silence at the blatant madness. 

Then, Ai begins to devour.

He’s a swirling balck mass, no longer simply an eyeball. Now he’s something more, something hungry, something eldritch in nature. He devours the information whole. And the more he eats, the bigger he gets, and the bigger he gets the safer Playmaker feels as he watches him. 

And when he was done, Ai was unstoppable as a force of nature, breaking through the data and swooping over the group, grabbing Playmaker and fleeing the conflict, “Bye everyone, you’ve all _sucked_!”

“Playmaker!” He doesn’t hear who, exactly, is calling him. He’s overwhelmed again, but this time it was by warmth. It was by comfort. It was by the feeling of being safely wrapped in something that wanted nothing more than to shield him. And after a lifetime of fighting, it was surely tempting to fall into an endless black abyss. Ai was something between flesh and liquid and rubber all at once, but he was warm, and he was safe. And, against his will, Yusaku let himself relax into that flesh, eyes slipping closed as he finally felt something like contentment.

“My turn to be the protector!” Ai cried, a massive mass flying through the network, destroying walls as he fled. He gave no care as he destroyed whole structures during his fleeing, laughing like a maniac as they flew. “You okay? That got pretty intense in there!”

Playmaker hummed, “I should have fought Revolver.”

“Next time buddy.” Ai promised, shaking his now existing head. “When people aren’t trying to expose you.”

“Next time.” Yusaku agreed. Then, coming to his senses, he turns to Ai, frowning, “You’ve gotten too big for the duel disk.”

“I can shrink.” Ai promises. “Don’t worry, you still gotta protect me when we log out.”

“You’re the size of a dragon.” Playmaker looks down, the long gone walls of SOLtech’s security absent as they fly the skies. Ai isn’t destroying anything now, but they’re very much exposed to the network. All of Vrains must see them right now. “I’m logging out. You better log out too.”

“I promise I’ll be, like, an inch tall.” Ai nods, “Don’t wanna destroy the hotdog truck. That’s all you eat.”

“I’m putting a lock on you getting this big.” Yusaku warns, eyes narrowing at the Ai. 

“Boo, you suck.” Ai complains. “You’re worse than any mom, Playmaker. The worst. I bet all the other AI get to do whatever they want.”

“Log out.”

“Fiiiiiiine.”

And so they log out, waking from Vrains to the inside of the hotdog truck, stumbling out of the login room and into the back of the van where a very, very, cross Shoichi waits for them with crossed arms and a tapping foot.

“It was Blue Angel’s fault.” Ai firmly puts the blame on the blue haired avatar’s feet, “She made the plan go wonky.”

Shoichi simply looked very much like a man that wanted nothing more than a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rolls in on with a Vanilla Chai] I regret nothing.
> 
> Ema, however, regrets everything. Ever. Forever. It's canon that none of her plans ever work. Ever. And what she hoped would be a nice family hash out turned into Ai eating SOLtech security. 
> 
> Also, yes, Unknown is well known in the Dark Web and everyone there is low key scared of him. They were super relieved when he decided to be Playmaker because that meant he wasn't kicking their asses anymore.
> 
> I skipped the duel. Sorry guys. I'm bad at duels. Just imagine it was an epic, awe inspiring, hard won duel between Aoi and Yusaku. 
> 
> At least Revolver is finally slapped with sacred knowledge. Sort of. He still has no idea who Yusaku Fujiki is. Next chapter should be fun. What with the aftermath of all this nonsense playing out. That should be fun.
> 
> Rip Akira's job.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**Zielschmerz** _: (German) n._ the dread of getting what you want.

* * *

Ryouken will have nightmares about the Dark Ignis for the rest of his life.

It’s all he can see when he logs out of Vrains, wrenching forward and heaving, dry coughs sputtering out of his lips. His whole chest burns with retching hacks, but nothing comes out. And even if he did all he can see in his mind’s eye is the Dark Ignis growing like liquid darkness. All teeth and squirming limbs, and eyes. Morphing to life and swallowing Playmaker whole.

There’s a ringing in his ears and a pounding thrumming through his entire head. But he can’t process that, all he can think about is that moment when Playmaker was there and then he was _gone_.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

He’s a fool, a damned fool. He’d overplayed his hand, too eager after ten years of nothing and now that’s what he had, nothing. Everything he’d ever wanted was right there, and he’d been too foolish to see it. 

Maybe that’s the price of overconfidence. He was blind, too over sure of himself. But how was he to know? How could he have _possibly_ predicted? Who in the _world_ could possibly fathom the tremendous strength of will it must have taken for that boy to pick himself up from the broke, shattered thing Ryouken had known and not only get back up, but _fight back_? To take the thing you were abused with and _weaponize_ it against his abusers? It’s maddening just to try and imagine the weight of such a tremendous task, never mind the strength to carry it through.

Could it really be Subject 006 behind that face? Ryouken can’t imagine it. His mind just can’t connect those teary green eyes with the vengeful fire that burned through Playmaker. He can’t connect those trembling lips and shaking hands with the steady stoicism Playmaker had become known for. Subject 006 was a broken thing, somehow both the weakest and the strongest of the six subjects. The one most prone to emotional outbursts, the one that had come closest to giving in to death, but also the one that never stopped getting back up.

And now, apparently, the one that fought back. 

He’d daydreamed about what Subject 006 would be like when he found him again. Hundreds of different outcomes from hundreds of different fantasies. But none of them had ended like this. Ryouken had never dismissed the possibility of one of the six being outright vengeful, Suzukage was vengeful, but somehow it never occurred to him that it would be him. Somehow he never imagined one of them would go through with actually seeking revenge. Not when Suzukage only just started watching duels again. Not when Miyu hesitated to touch her deck. Not when even Spectre, who even as he claimed to enjoy what happened to him, only dueled when he absolutely needed to.

In his mind, the strongest image of Subject 006 had been of that crying boy in that white room. A little older, a little more subdued. A quiet boy, one that was constantly checking over his shoulders, always fearful of the day he’d be taken again. A melancholy boy somewhere far away. That’s the one Ryouken most believed. A boy made of the same brittle glass as Suzukage, but with Spectre’s resolve and Miyu’s calm. With the only anger being a brief flash that would come to life and burn the world when he set eyes on the boy that betrayed him. There only for a flicker before burning the boy out and leaving him nothing but the taste of ashes behind.

But Playmaker isn’t brittle. He isn’t glass. He’s that same hellfire that burned so long ago, and only now does Ryouken realize those same wisps had always been the raw flames of a _phoenix_. And the boy in that room had only been embers in the ashes, and had risen again harder and stronger than he ever had been before. And now he wants to burn everyone who’d stuffed out those who stuffed out that small life.

Subject 006 had been right in front of him and he hadn’t even noticed because he failed to realize the debt of the boy’s strength. He’d actually thought Playmaker had been a brother. He’d honestly believed so strongly that it couldn’t actually be Subject 006 that he’d willingly blinded himself and now he was paying the price.

He’d been _right there_.

Ryouken had _touched_ him.

And now he was _gone_.

The teen sucked cold air between his teeth, fingers drumming, rage and frustration burning through him. _Ten years_ of searching and the moment he found his main target they slipped between his fingers. Taken by the very thing he’d been hunting. 

Even now he can’t get the sight out of his head. He’d been right there, within reach, and the Dark Ignis had swooped in and snatched him right off his feet, wrapping the avatar’s body with it’s own, like it was absorbing him into its flesh. He wasn’t joking about the sight being one that would give him nightmares for years to come.

He lifts his hand to rub his eyes, trying to banish the image from his mind. But it’s burned there, forever, set to replay every time he closes his eyes for even a blink. He shutters again, using his palms as a shield from the rest of the world as he tries to compose himself.

And that’s when the _**rage** _came.

He’s felt rage before, but never like this. It’s an ugly, terrible, thing. It crawls through his veins like a hissing snake, a foul mood ready to lash out and destroy. He wants to do just that, to reach out and break something, anything in reach. 

He’d been right there and that thing took him.

And Playmaker let it. Playmaker had been actively working with it. Playmaker had trusted it. He’d taken an old duel disk with the Ignis attached and thrown it into the heart of SOLtech’s information and let it run wild, confident the creature was on his side. Or, at least, that it wasn’t the enemy in the room. Because whatever Playmaker had been thinking, if he’d been thinking, it wasn’t that the thing on his arm was the most dangerous creature in the room. 

And why would he think that? How could he know what had attached itself to him and dug its claws into his head. Playmaker was a vengeful boy going after the people who’d hurt him. Unless the Ignis had told him everything then Playmaker knew nothing of the goals behind the Hanoi Project and the creation of sentient A.I. All he knew was that, to him, the most dangerous creature in the room was…

“ _Dammit_.” Ryouken cursed, beating his fist against the floor. 

It wasn’t the first time he’s regretted taking up his position as the knight’s leader, but this is the first time he’s actively faced possibly irreparable conflict because of it. With his housemates he had the benefit of meeting them as Ryouken first, of being able to give himself a face and promises and reassurances. He had the benefit of explaining himself first and making logical arguments for why he was doing this. 

Now, in his overconfidence and impatience, he’s overplayed his hand. He overreached, throwing himself headfirst without thinking and making demands of what he thought was a lead, never knowing he was antagonizing the target, and now he might have lost him forever.

“Fuck.” He hisses, fist pounding against the floor, “Dammit, motherfuck, _goddammit_.”

Please don’t be dead, he mentally begs. Please don’t let the Ignis have devoured his consciousness the moment he lost usefulness to him. Ryouken doesn’t know if he can live with that. To have come so close, to have been within arm’s reach only to have him snatched away right before his very eyes, devoured whole as he was betrayed again because he trusted something he shouldn’t have.

The guilt and self-hatred burns in his throat, and all Ryouken can do is push himself into a standing position. He wobbled on his feet, eyes glaring resentfully out the windows out open the sunny day over the ocean. Hatred burned through him, and he had nowhere to release it. He wants to scream, and shout, and fling anything his hand touches towards those glass walls. But the room was wisely empty for just such a reason, and he’s never regretted that decision more, because what else was he supposed to do with all this **_rage_**?

He couldn’t even move, paralyzed by his own bottled wrath.

And at the same time he clings to that feeling, because if he doesn’t let the rage burn like an endless inferno then all that will be left is guilt and bitter despair, and anything is better than that. He won’t accept that. He hasn’t lost, not yet, not so long as there’s still a chance he’s alive. 

_He hasn’t lost yet._

It’s the one clear thought he has, and he clings to it the moment it enters his mind. It’s the one thing that grounds him long enough to...not escape this rage, but to ground it, to point it into a productive direction. 

He hasn't lost yet. It’s not over, not until he knows for sure that Playmaker has been devoured. 

Ryouken rubs his face with both hands, forcing himself to take another shuddering breath. His skin burns with his anger, but his mind is focused. Good, that’s good. As long as his mind is clear he can do something about this. 

First things first. He needs to move, find a monitor and scour the network for any signs of Playmaker or the Dark Ignis, whichever one he finds first. Then he’ll...he’ll…Well, what he does next will depend on whether or not Playmaker’s avatar and data were whole and its user safe from being essentially digitally lobotomized. 

The thought makes him want to hit something all over again.

He was right _there_.

Ryouken curses himself under his breath before bothering to compose himself. All the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to calm this rage. So instead he just forces himself forward, open in his anger but for the most part keeping himself together as he leaves the room and makes his way towards wherever Zaizen had set herself up.

Finding her was easy, all he had to do from the moment he left his station room was follow the sounds of yelling and breaking things. 

The silver haired teen happens upon a rare sight when he enters the living room in which his housemates and his guest set up during this whole misadventure. A Zaizen Aoi who has lost her composure, set somewhere between teary despair and angry frustration herself, emotions left raw from the encounter they’d had just moments ago. If this were any other situation he’d feel sorry for her, but right now he can’t do anything more than watch, an irrational resentment burning his tongue. 

‘ _I should have never gone after you_.’ He thinks, the petty feelings leaving him mute as he watches her break down. ‘ _I should have ignored Spectre’s message. I should have just_ …’

Except there was no “just”. Even if he hadn't been there it likely would have ended the same, with the Ignis gaining everything it needed to rebuild itself stronger than ever, and Playmaker at it’s mercy. The only thing that had changed was how angry he’d been before everything had happened. 

So then, because he’s a petty creature, he resents her for failing instead. She had been there, she had dueled him, she’d had the chance to stop him and _failed_. Why was she even _there_ if she could even stop one traumatized boy from self-destructing? 

It’s not right to think this way, and it’s not fair to Zaizen and her strength. No one could be expected to stomp out a wildfire on their own, but he can’t help thinking like this way, even if only for a moment. It leaves him disgusted with himself, because he knows very well how deeply Zaizen cares about the Lost Incident and it’s victims, her obsession with it perhaps not burning as deeply as his own, but nearing enough just out of sheer compassion and empathy born from her love of the few victims she’s come to know.

So he leans against the open arc of the doorway into the living room, both hating and pitying the girl as she kneels into the carpet and clutches her face like it’s burning, Miyu fussing over her, face twisted with ugly concern. Spectre is towering above them, eyes carefully watching as the girls try to comfort each other through their mess of emotions. He’s the first to notice Ryouken, but he doesn’t say anything, wisely keeping his mouth shut and not trying to speak over Zaizen’s unintelligible sputtering. 

Suzukage is backed against an adjacent wall, eyes blown wide and mouth parted in mute horror, clutching the bag of hotdogs he’d been sent out for to his chest like it’s the only thing shielding him from whatever he thinks had caused Zaizen’s despair. 

“Aoi, _please_.” Miyu shakes the girl’s shoulder, her voice thick and pleading, eyes brimming with tears. “Tell me what’s wrong so we can make it better.”

One thing he’s always reluctantly admired about Zaizen was her ability to pull herself together with the right motivation. And that’s what she does now, rubbing her face and straightening herself up, forcing her features into their usual calm by sheer force of will. She gives a quick sniff, rubbing her eyes with her palm. Now she more closely resembles the girl he knows, only damp rings around her eyes and kneeling position on the floor evidencing her little outburst.

“I think my brother is going to be fired soon.” Her voice is admirably calm and controlled, only shaking the slightest bit towards the end.

“ _What_?” Miyu’s eyes widened in surprise, her distress and confusion still bleeding into her voice, “Why? What happened?”

“Playmaker broke into SOLtech’s database.” Zaizen explains loftly, failing to give the earth shattering details that lead to her current distress. And maybe if this room were full of anyone else but them, and Zaizen was anyone but who she was, this would have been enough explanation. But they weren’t just anyone, and even now Ryouken can feel the tension in the room build as his housemates eyes all flicker towards him.

Suzukage bites his lip, voice breathy as he tries his hand at speaking with false casualty, “I was gone for, like, fifteen minutes and you guys and I come back to find Aoi’s whole life ending?”

The joke is in poor taste and he knows it, all the boy can do is wince as both Miyu and Spectre send him a scathing look of disapproval, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. Then teal eyes flicker towards Ryouken, begging him to intervene, but the silver haired teen is in no position to open his mouth right now. If he does he’s not sure he won’t make things far, far, worse. He’s rubbed too raw, and a part of him is starting to think that maybe this is all a nightmare. A vivid nightmare. 

“What happened Aoi?” Miyu pulls the other girl into her arms, hugging the brunette tight to her chest and patting her bop of brown hair. “What did Playmaker do? Why is Akira going to be fired?”

“It’s my fault.” Zaizen answers dully, almost empty of emotion as she leans her head lulls against the other girl’s shoulder. “I didn’t know…I should have stopped him. I should have tried to talk to him first. I could have stopped him.”

‘ _No one can hope to stop a storm at sea_ ,’ he wants to say, but he doesn’t trust his tongue to speak. His body is numb, and his skin still flushed with heated rage, and something in his head is still ringing. So he keeps his lips sealed and focuses on leaning against the doorway.

Spectre is frowning deeply, brows knitting together as his attention shifts between Ryouken and Zaizen. Neither good at comfort nor in possession of enough context to be useful, he does what is, perhaps, the only thing he can do by prodding for information, “What did he do? What haven’t you stopped?”

Ryouken watches with dull eyes. Likely Spectre already knows about the Ignis tearing apart half of Vrains, but he can’t help but wonder what will happen once he has context for why that happened. He can’t even find it in himself to interfere or comment, too worn and rubbed raw. Too untrusting of his own judgement and aching chest. 

_He hasn’t lost yet_ , that thought is the only thing even keeping him on his feet right now.

“Playmaker…” Zaizen doesn’t so much hesitate as she just can’t find the words to explain what happened. It can’t be easy. But she gets there before Ryouken, finding something to tumble out of her mouth. “Vrains has been torn apart...again.”

He thinks he should be offended by the fact that nearly everyone’s eyes immediately find him, with Zaizen’s face being buried in Miyu’s neck being the only thing keeping his obvious identity away from her. 

“I was gone for fifteen minutes…” Suzukage moans, looking upwards, bag of hotdogs held tightly still, the happy logo mocking Ryouken.

“Well.” Spectre claps his hands together, “That explains it all then. Twice in a row Vrains has been devastated under Akira’s watch.”

Miyu threw the platinum haired boy a withering glare, her hand petting Zaizen's brunette locks as she tried to express with her expression alone just how inappropriate his comment was. Spectre just shrugged, a sly smile forming on his lips. 

“I could have stopped him.” Zaizen pulls away, brown eyes meeting Miyu’s, “I...Playmaker, he broke into the databank where they keep the files on...well...you know.”

The awkward tilt of her voice, the way her eyes flicker over all of them, it becomes very clear what she means. He can see the realization fall over his housemate’s expressions, with Spectre’s expression retaining that careful smirk while Miyu and Suzukage’s faces twist in barely contained horror.

Zaizen sees this, hands twisting together, “I know, I thought the same thing when I realized where he was.”

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” Suzukage steps forward, dropping the bag on the coffee table and lifting his hands, “How does that lead to Vrains being torn apart...again. Did Revolver learn that Playmaker was about to do...whatever he was doing and ride another fuck you dragon through the server again?”

“Actually, it wasn’t Revolver.” Ryouken finally finds his voice, because the sheer irony is too much to resist. He can’t help but laugh, not a loud and endless thing, but a quiet sort of hysteria. He doesn’t know how he overlooked that particular aspect of what happened, but now that the thought has entered his head it won’t leave. 

If Playmaker was alive, then he and Revolver were truly cut from the same cloth. 

“Wait, what?” Suzukage’s voice drops. “You’re kidding. Tearing apart Vrains is Revolver’s whole supervillain aesthetic.”

“It…” Zaizen shakes her head, like she couldn’t believe what happened herself. “I’m sure there are videos.”

“I’m more interested in why Vrains got torn apart, you still haven’t explained that.” Spectre mused, hand going to his chin. “Though you have effectively explained why your brother is about to be...demoted at best.”

Zaizen buries her face in her hands, and Miyu throws Spectre another look. To his credit, the boy actually grimaces, though he doesn’t bother with actually looking at all guilty for his painfully true words. 

“I thought Playmaker was trying to expose...what happened.” Zaizen explained once she composed herself, shame coloring every part of her features. She takes a deep breath, flicking her fingers and finally actually explaining what happened, “So I tried to stop him, but...I just made things so much worse.”

“Don’t tell me Playmaker destroyed Vrains.” Suzukage looks absolutely heartbroken by the idea, hand going to clutch his chest. 

“Well...that’s the simplified explanation.” Zaizen looks over at him, lips thinning. “But that’s...not entirely _accurate_.”

Suzukage looks frustrated enough to yank out his own hair, eyes set expectantly on the brunette as he silently begs for her to just clarify.

So she does, “Playmaker was one of the victims.”

And that’s all it takes to explain everything, apparently, because all at once the tension in the room abates and is replaced by a stream of other emotions, each reaction as extreme as the last. Miyu’s face twists in sheer, unadulterated horror. And Spectre immediately whirls to gauge Ryouken’s reaction, but if he wants anything more then barely retained rage and bitter failure then he’s going to be disappointed. 

Suzukage, meanwhile, looks like a man who has found religion. His emotions are a whole series, playing from shock, to bewilderment, to near worshipful _awe_ as he realizes the implications behind Zaizen’s words. He looks half in love, and it makes the beast within Ryouken's chest burn with bitter and conflicted jealousy. Never once has Suzukage looked at Ryouken with such admiration and adoring fascination. But, somehow, even that bit of jealousy is just a mere droplet compared to the raging tsunami that came from the idea that it was Subject 006 that look was created for.

And, even worse, a part of him is satisfied. Because, finally, someone else has noticed the sheer magnificence of Pandora’s power. It wasn’t just that Ryouken himself was weak to those eyes. They were a force of nature, stronger than any unprepared man could resist. If someone as stubborn and unmovable as Midori Suzukage found himself enraptured then how could a mere child have been prepared? He hadn’t known what he was unleashing into the world when that door was opened. And it’s only now, years later, he’s learning just how far that power spread, streaking through the sky with scaring green, the first sight of an aurora borealis.

  
  
God, that didn’t even make sense. He must still be half hysterical, because he’s so very obviously losing it. 

_~~And now all he can think about is how much he wants to see Subject 006 standing under a real aurora borealis and by god now is not the time.~~ _

“ _Wow_.” Suzukage was the one to speak, a little breathless. “So...he’s one of _us_?”

“Apparently.” Spectre speaks very, very, evenly. “Which is...very enlightening about the situation at hand.”

He very clearly looks at Ryouken as he says this.

“Ha!” Suzukage looks very smug, also looking at Ryouken, “That’s the most beautifully poetic bullshit I’ve ever heard in my _goddamned_ _life_ and I'm so happy to have lived long enough to see it.”

“ _Midori Suzukage_!” Miyu snaps, turning her furious eyes on him and clicking her jaw, still holding Zaizen close to her, “This _isn’t_ funny!”

“It’s a little funny.” Suzukage replies easily, “I mean, come on. This is, like, _Shakespearean_ or something.”

“You’ve never even read Shakespeare.” Spectre scolds, his own face twisting as he turns on his housemate. “And regardless if you had, this does not change the fact that this is a real situation.”

“I know enough to know that he’d appreciate the sheer irony of all this.” Suzukage waves his hands, “I mean, come on, you gotta admit that this is a little karmic? Or, like, Greek? Those Hanoi guys tortured us for months, and how are they paying for their actions? By having on of the kids they tortured hunt them down with the thing they used to torture him. Like, holy shit.”

“That’s nice and all…” Miyu spoke, but her expression and the tone of her voice made it very clear how much she didn’t agree with her own words. “...but you’re conveniently forgetting something.”

“What?” Suzukage raises an eyebrow, hands on his hips, “Gimme the tea, I’m not afraid of criticism.”

“What kind of _mental_ state is he in?” Miyu challenged, concern and righteous compassion painting every part of her. “What sort of _terrible_ place is that poor boy in that he feels like he has to hunt down our _abusers_ by _himself_?”

“Probably the same one _we_ were _all_ in before.” Suzukage threw out his arm, laughing sarcastically, “Because, you know, we were _sooooooo_ great. What with the constant nightmares, and the checking over our shoulders, and the _never feeling safe_ and the _dying_. Maybe he just got tired of that. Maybe he decided he didn’t want to spend his _whole life_ like that! Maybe _he_ decided he didn’t _want_ to wait on some guy to show up in order to feel _safe_ again!”

Ryouken schools his features in order to keep from flinching, guilt clawing at the reminder of how badly he’s failed the other three victims. Suzukage was right, he’d kept them waiting too long, and in desperation Subject 006 had forced himself up and decided to do something himself. 

“And you think it’s _healthy_ to hunt down your abusers using the thing they _abused_ you with?” Miyu sounds absolutely distressed by the idea. And she’s right too. No one should _ever_ have to be forced into such a corner. No one should _ever_ be _forced_ through the very thing they were abused with just to feel _some_ sense of peace or closure. Ryouken couldn’t be sure what kind of treatment or therapy Subject 006 had been through in order to even stand looking at cards again, but if it was anything like Miyu’s and Suzukage’s…

Even the thought of those ineffective _buffoons_ makes Ryouken want to punch a wall.

“He’s doing what I wish _I_ had the strength to do!” Suzukage threw back, hissing through his teeth like a viper. “He’s _doing_ something! He’s not twiddling his thumbs and feeling sorry for himself!”

“He’s clearly _self-destructing_!” Miyu challenges right back, yelling now, abandoning the quietly watching Zaizen to stand up and throw her arms out. “Think about how **_we_ **were before this Suzukage! Think about how **_bad_ **his mental state must be if this is his solution!”

“Or how much better he’s taking this then us.” Suzukage gives a bitter laugh, dropping his hands and looking down at his shows, smile still in place, but more weary now. “I wonder if his parents could afford better therapy than ours did.”

“Obviously not. Just think about what this is probably _doing_ to him!” Miyu’s face is the picture of empathetic despair, her hand clutching at her chest and eyes watering at the very thought. “It’s…not fair…”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Suzukage places his hands on his hips, looking her in the eye, “But he’s doing something. And you know why? Because _no one else fucking did shit_.”

Ryouken isn’t able to hide the flinch this time. Suzukage is right, no one had done anything about Hanoi. Not the police, not SOLtech, not the Zaizens, and especially not Ryouken. Not really. He’d gathered the victims he could, collected them and made sure they were safe and cared for. But that didn’t mean he’d done enough. That didn’t change the fact that three of the victims were still lost, out in the world where the people who hurt them were free in the world. They were left unknowing and uncertain, probably shadowed constantly by the fear and injustice. 

And, apparently, there had been a ticking clock besides their likely shortened lifespans. 

The air is suddenly too thick for him, and he can’t breath. He turns away, walking out of the room, not able to take it anymore. He storms down the hall, not knowing where, exactly, he’s going other than away.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he jerks away, whirling to face the owner, only to see that Spectre had followed him.

“Ryouken.” The blonde bows his head, “What can I do to help you resolve this situation?”

Ryouken has to stop himself from violently insisting that the best thing Spectre can do to help is never, ever, touch his Vrains account again. This is already nightmarish enough, he doesn’t want to risk another of his subjects diving into the complicated mess the Hanoi Project had left him with. 

He remains silent, but Spectre only watches him expectantly.

There’s been a few moments over the years where Spectre has prodded at the idea that he should help with the Knight of Hanoi, and Ryouken has always stomped the very suggestion out. And he knows Spectre wants to be useful to him, had hitched his entire purpose in life around doing so, worryingly enough. It’s taken a lot of therapy for Spectre to break out of that mindset and pursue hobbies and connections outside of Ryouken himself. But at his core he still has that innate desire to help Ryouken see his goals through.

At some point Ryouken had given in and let Spectre help him track the other victims. That’s actually how they found Suzukage. Together.

But, more than that, it means that Spectre has read through the files that existed on the Lost Victims. Pouring hours of his time into studying each and every one so he could hunt down files to find them. He’s seen every one of their records.

All except Subject 006’s.

As a child he hadn’t known how to explain why he refused to share that particular file, selfishly hoarding it for himself. He had been scared, the fear a physical thing he could almost touch. And he had been possessive of it. And he hadn’t wanted Spectre to see those eyes, blurred as they were, for fear he’d fall prey to them too. And there had been shame, like he had to be the one to find Pandora out there in the big bad world.

Now that he’s older he recognized the feeling for what it was. He hadn’t wanted to share Subject 006 with anyone, not even his most trusted ally. Pandora had been his shame, his secret. He had to be the one to find him in order to make up for what he’d done. 

It was a realization he’d had after that disastrous first kiss with the lip-gloss wearing girl at the park when he was fourteen, coming home that day and shutting himself in his room, stewing in his guilt and anger and frustration. Wondering what his body wanted and why he wasn’t satisfied. At first he thought it was guilt, like his whole body rejected happiness as long as the victims were lost. Until he found his hands wandering to places he wasn’t used to and soon laying in shame and filth with the fading memory of green eyes an a blurred face, staring at the roof and realizing that maybe his feelings went deeper than he thought.

~~Also the knowledge that puberty sucked.~~

They came very close to talking about it once, with Spectre somewhat casually trying to prod for an answer as to what made this particular victim different to the others, to which Ryouken hadn’t had a real answer other than a vague “it’s personal”.

But he feels like Spectre knows.

Just like he suspects Spectre knows right now exactly which victims Playmaker will turn out to be. 

“Just…” Ryouken waves trying to dismiss his long time friend and ally, “Just focus on finding the others, I’ll handle things on Vrains.”

Spectre clicked his tongue, not looking particularly pleased at first. But his expression changes to his usual smirk soon after, his form dipping into a bow. “As you wish.”

Maybe if Ryouken had been a little less...rattled, he would have been careful to be more specific with his wording. But, as it was, he was too focused on trying to convince himself that it wasn’t too late, that he could still save Playmaker. That the boy was still alive even after the Ignis had swallowed him whole.

He hasn’t lost yet.

It’s not _over_ yet.

It’s not over until everything is okay. It’s not over until Pandora is standing in front of him, safe and sound where he belongs. Ryouken doesn’t care who he has to fight, the Ignis, his knights, _anyone_. 

_He’s going to win._

* * *

Vrains is an absolute nightmare the week following Ai and Playmaker’s escape from SOLtech’s inner database network. 

Nightmare was a generous term. Everything was a mess, and videos of Ai’s absolutely abominable gigantic form, equipped with many different tentacles, a toothy mouth that would make sharks jealous, and an even more nightmarish set of red and yellow cracked eyes. Yusaku hadn’t realized at the time just how big Ai had gotten, but the chaos he reigned rivaled Revolver’s infamous ride through the network. Only Ai had the added bonus of tearing apart SOLtech’s security and leaving it open and vulnerable to hackers everywhere while their employees scrambled to keep things intact. This left all the other destroyed buildings in Vrains lingering even now, half the map reduced to rubble. 

Somehow Yusaku thought the biggest issue would be criminals from the Dark Web trying to hack SOLtech’s secrets, but it turns out the real nightmare had been the game modders and would-be programmers taking the chance to modify Vrains while SOLtech’s security team was weakened. Seemingly overnight whole areas and fields and features had been changed. While Zaizen Akira’s team was busy battling hackers, the modders had made a castle start floating over the sky, and French plazas, and we're recreating both popular real world areas and fictional areas. 

It was when something a giant moon with a grimacing face had appeared in the Vrains sky that Shoichi had turned a rather unimpressed look to him and simply stated, “You’re both grounded.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong!” Ai defended, pointing at the older man accusingly. Because Ai could point now, because he had a body. A tiny, three inch body made from some sort of formed mass that he could stretch and change and form into whatever shape he wanted so long as he was actually connected to a duel disk. He’s taken to a tiny, mostly humanoid, form thought. One with a pair of round yellow eyes and a tear shaped head, a near permanent smile on his actually mouthless face as lines of bright yellow coding work down his purplish-black body. 

“You _destroyed_ Vrains.” Was Shoichi’s unimpressed reply. He gestured towards the screen, where the moon was hovering in the sky, just over the Heartland Tower, which had long strings of giant and colorful carnival lights twisting down it, with lots of Ferris wheels and other fun attractions around it. “Look at what you’ve done. I don’t even want to _know_ what kind of legal troubles this is going to cause.”

“Causing SOLtech trouble is our job.” Ai claimed, crossing his tiny arms, “And I had to get Yusaku out of there. It was getting really dicey really fast.”

“By breaking the internet?” Shoichi still isn’t impressed at all. Yusaku could only sit there silently, accepting the criticism. It really had been a rough week, and the chaos caused by both players and other factors had only made things near unbearable to deal with. With the chance to do pretty much whatever they wished, the Vrains players have lost their minds, and any time he’s logged on since Ai’s rampage the very moment his avatar is spotted he’s flooded by people trying to catch him and invite him to a fan-made event. So far there’s been at least ten balls, some of them masquerades and some of them just fanciful, and more than a few fans recreating real life theaters and taking advantage of avatar customization to perform dream plays. Or just cobblestone pathed streets with French cafes, bakeries, and aesthetic flower shops. And somehow people have been inviting him to all these things.

Yusaku knows that thousands of people log into Vrains, with that number growing every day, but where did people find the time to create these things? Or learn how to program well enough to add the hyper realistic features. He vaguely suspects that maybe a few lower tier SOLtech employees are having a bit of fun themselves through the chaos. That’s the only way so much could have gotten done so fast. 

“We didn’t _break_ the internet.” Ai waved his hand towards the screen. “If anything we’ve made it ten times better!”

“People trying to do work without a love hotel popping on top of them would disagree.” Shoichi disagreed with a stern glare, lips a thin line. “It’s not just fun things happening you know. You’ve made it much harder to track the Knights of Hanoi, especially with all the other illegal organizations taking advantage of this and throwing off the scent.”

“Having trouble finding the knights is the worst argument you could have made.” It was Ai’s turn to be unimpressed, his voice actually going unusually flat as he stared at Shoichi with slightly narrowed eyes. “Literally the worst argument. Our problem is, in fact, the exact opposite of what you claim. We can’t _stop_ finding Revolver.”

That was absolutely true as well. 

It was almost an inevitability now. Every time he logged into Vrains as Playmaker it wouldn’t take the crowds long to find him, and once his location was known then the rabid fans trying to invite him on a...date...was the least of his problem, because Revolver was never far behind.

The blue haired boy sighed, slumping against his seat as a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him. Green eyes flickered over the screens, watching the now more festive and lively Vrains with a critical eye. He hasn’t been able to accomplish anything within the network lately, not with Revolver constantly after him. It feels like he can’t even take a single step in the virtual world without the Knight’s leader obsessively hounding him. 

It was like the encounter in SOLtech’s databank had woken something up in the elusive leader, and where before Playmaker was just one of what probably amounted for many different obstacles for the cyber-terrorist to overcome, now it felt like Revolver made it his personal mission to bring him down. Yusaku hadn’t even seen one of his dozen or so minions since then, the only appearances of any Hanoi being from either Revolver himself or what looked to be higher ranked members.

One would think this would make his mission easier, with the leader of his enemy practically throwing themselves at him. But that was failing to take into account the sheer number of people that were overwhelmingly trying to throw themselves in between the wanted terrorist and the reluctantly named hero of Vrains. It’s gotten to dangerous and absurd levels, with even Revolver showing visible frustration with the crowds as they attempt to “help” him. It wasn’t even possible to duel with the sheer _number_ of people standing in their way.

It’s gotten to the point where Yusaku used his Unknown account today, with an edited appearance, of course. But even wandering around as the now hoodie clad and hidden faced Unknown was a hassle with how chaotic the streets were in Vrains right now. As Unknown he was closer to the ground, so to speak, and was greeted to a first hand account of the new levels of harassment and profanity among the more casual players that the security AI simply didn’t have time to look into. Now you couldn’t walk past a female player without some of the more disrespectful users asking for pictures of their breasts.

Zaizen Akira may be far from Yusaku’s favorite person in the world right now, but he suddenly found a new appreciation for the man. He had existed as what basically amounted as Vrain’s police force, and with him taking care of the servers it had been a mostly safe environment for kids and other players on a day to day basis. It almost made him feel bad for the trouble he caused and setting the man up for eventual demotion.

Almost. 

Then he’d remember that Zaizen had exposed Playmaker as one of the former victims of the Lost Incident in front of the leader of the organization responsible. It becomes a little harder to regret tearing apart SOLtech security. While everything happening was inconvenient, it was far, far, less dangerous than the position he was in now. Because if Hanoi had any records of him…

Well, it explains their sudden fixation on him. Playmaker had been a thorn in their side. Yusaku was escaped _property_.

The teen presses a hand over his chest, fingers twisted with the fabric of his shirt. He understands what Zaizen had been trying to do now that he’s been pulled out of the situation and given time to calm down. It was, objectively speaking, kind of the man to try to reach out to him and help. That being said, Zaizen Akira had no right, absolutely no right, to try to stop him. But he had, and in doing so inadvertently ruined Yusaku’s sense of peace. Now he can’t help but constantly watch his back in fear that the knights will finally track him down. 

The anxiety has been eating him alive, leaving him paranoid and constantly looking over his own shoulder. A fear that’s only fueled further by Revolver’s seemingly endless determination to hunt him down. He can't think of those yellow eyes and the way the obsessively track him whenever he's on the network. He can't stand the thought of the person behind them _knowing_ who he is.

It’s a fear Shoichi seems to have slowly developed as well, the slowly growing paranoia building and building in the man with every near encounter with Revolver and every dip into the disastrous Vrains until it finally came to a head. Which led to this moment between them right here and now, with him sat firmly in his seat beside the food truck’s monitors, the older man towering over him and Ai with a clicked jaw and a flat stare. “All the more reason to ground you both.”

“You’re not my real dad!” Ai cried dramatically, swinging his finger towards the man. “According to the info I ate that’s technically-”

“Say one more word, Ai, I dare you.” Shoichi’s voice was thick with warning, the disapproval burning off of him. 

To his credit, Ai seemed to realize what he was saying would be in poor taste and shrunk down, hiding in his duel disk with only the top of his head peered from the strange mass that created his body. “...I’m just saying, you can’t ground us. Yusaku has custody of himself, and I don’t legally exist.”

Shoichi clicked his tongue, “You really think that’s going to stop me from grounding you?”

The teenager honestly didn’t know the answer to that question. This has never happened before, and wasn’t something he was prepared for. He’d been under the impression that he and Shoichi had a professional relationship, with neither of them initiating more than needed conversation nor neglecting each other more than was required for their alliance. 

Granted, Shoichi was a particularly attentive partner, mindful of Yusaku’s triggers and diet, even driving him home late at night after their work was done. But that was to be expected. Yusaku wasn’t just anyone, he was a victim of the Lost Incident, and that was not an insignificant fact, especially not to someone like Shoichi, whose brother was so damaged by the incident that he needed constant care. It was natural that he would be a little more attentive than is necessarily professional. It was just a mild bit of projecting, and Yusaku had never minded. If a little bit of projecting made Shoichi feel like he was helping his brother, like he was doing something right, then he wasn’t going to say anything. 

Now he’s starting to think he should have, because this conversation wasn’t professional, it was starting to sound personal. “Kusanagi…”

“Yusaku.” The older man didn’t even blink. 

_Huh_. 

“What, exactly, am I grounded from?” He decides to play along with this, to see where this was going and what Shoichi was trying to say. 

“From going into Vrains.” Shoichi explained evenly, his foot tapping against the steel flooring loudly, arms crossing over his chest. “Until SOLteach finishes fixing their security.”

Ridiculous. 

“And what are we going to do if the Knights of Hanoi attack?” Yusaku lifts a brow, green eyes meeting grey and normally dull voice somehow even more flat than usual. It was a moot point, he thinks, because the knights have all seemingly decided Playmaker himself is their mission now and are spending their efforts exclusively hunting him now. But, then, he hasn’t really tested what they will do if he’s gone for more than a day yet. 

“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” Shoichi’s gaze flickered back towards the screens again, leveling the crowds in the streets with the most unimpressed look thus far, “I think the moment you tried to step in Revolver would find you anyway.”

He felt his eye twitch the slightest bit.

“So we’re grounded because Revolver is a stalker? That’s it?” Ai complained, pushing himself back out of the duel disk. “Booo. That’s not fair, hotdog man.” 

Shoichi shrugged.

“Unknown was able to log in fine today.” Yusaku pointed out simply, logically destroying the argument and hopefully stopping his companion’s bickering. 

No such luck, because Shoichi just looked back at him and shrugged, “Too bad.”

“ _Tyranny_ , that’s what this is.” Ai accused dramatically, waving his arms again, “This is tyranny. You can’t ground us, we’re ungroundable! We’re our own dad! So _there_! We can do whatever we want! _Ha_!”

Yusaku pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply.

It seemed Shoichi was equally tired of the bickering, because he sighed as well, mimicking Yusaku’s actions as he also pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, alright. I get it, I don’t have the authority to actually ground you.”

“Ah!” Was Ai’s victorious cry, his face somehow looking smug as he crossed his tiny arms. 

“But I still don’t think it’s a good idea to keep diving into Vrains while this is going on.” Shoichi pried his eyes open, dropping his hand to his side, finger tapping at his thigh. “Nothing productive is going on, and it’s dangerous.”

That, at least, Yusaku could agree with. All his trips into the network have been phenomenal wastes of time. It’s been endlessly frustrating. The one good thing that came out of Ai devouring SOLtech’s security had been getting endless amounts of useful information for their mission, and now they’re stuck waiting to do anything with it. 

He’s not a generally impatient person, but to finally have his hands on the identity of the man who was responsible for ruining his life only to learn he’d died already was very...frustrating, and left him stirring with impatience. 

Dr. Kiyoshi Kogami.

Even thinking of the name makes his blood boil. His fists tighten as the very reminder of the man’s existence sours his mood. Dr. Kogami, a man who had kidnapped six children and tortured them for six months straight in the name of his research. A man who had chosen hypothetical gains over existing children. 

~~_“Tell me, Mr. Fujiki.” Dr. Lecter asks, reclining against his chair, “What is worse: the idea of never knowing why? Or the fear that you’ll learn the reason and find it unsatisfactory?”_ ~~

It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing that the man that had ruined his and Jin’s lives was able to live the rest of his life never facing the consequences of his actions. The only punishment he’d apparently face being a mere three year imprisonment in SOLtech’s custody. And even then it had been more akin to house arrest. Apparently, actual criminals who torture children deserve a nice apartment and access to a lap and three meals a day. 

Granted, it’s a little worse than prison. He’d not been allowed any visitors, nor was he allowed outside of the apartment they’d given him, and his human company was limited to the guards that fed him and any board members that would make demands of him. But it still felt like injustice. Knowing that the man who’d _tortured_ six children was imprisoned in an apartment that was nicer than anything Yusaku would _ever_ be able to afford and allowed him to continue his research under the watchful eyes of SOLtech until they were sure the commotion around the Lost Incident died down and _let the man go free_ …

A spiteful, bitter, part of Yusaku was glad he died just after being freed. 

Yusaku has never wished death on anyone before, he hadn’t even wanted those responsible for his torture to die. He wanted them imprisoned, facing justice, but not _dead_. But the sheer sense of _injustice_ he feels knowing how little anyone cared for what happened, how little Kogami actually paid for ruining the lives of so many people…

He shakes his head, abandoning those thoughts. There was no use in dwelling on them. Dr. Kogami is dead, he’ll never hurt anyone again. Now he needs to focus on making sure his cohorts can’t either.

Something cool touches his cheek, smooth like rubber and soft like flesh. Emerald eyes flicker downwards, spotting Ai patting his cheek softly, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll get em.”

Despite himself, Yusaku felt the now familiar pang of fondness for the small A.I. Something that’s only grown now that Ai had his own face and broader expressions. It was easier to ignore his steadily growing fondness when he was only an eyeball, but something about having your own face just unconsciously humanized him too much for Yusaku’s carefully built apathy to ignore.

_~~“You are completely, utterly, and tragically ruled by your love for others.”~~ _

“Hn.” He grunts, looking away, trying to keep that distance between them. But he feels like Ai already knows. Damn him.

“Hey, cheer up.” Shoichi grins at him, trying to lighten the mood. He gave a thumbs up, looking younger than he had in days. “We got what we need, so let’s just...take this as a little vacation.”

“Vacation?” Yusaku wrinkled his nose.

“Yeah, we could both use a break. Get some rest before we come back to Vrains more prepared than ever.” The older man turned on him, looking enthused by the idea. He looks more energetic than he has all week, drumming his fingers on the desk, “Hey, how about you come visit Jin with me?”

Yusku jerks back, blinking, almost sure he hadn’t heard that right, “...what?”

“I know you’ve met him once already.” Shoichi continues to drum his fingers against the desk. He’s biting his bottom lip, leg bouncing as his gaze remains firmly on Yusaku. “But...I think it’d be good for both of you.”

Ai tilts his head at that, humming at the offer before looking up at Yusaku. He half expects the AI to goad him into agreeing, but he’s surprisingly silent, waiting for his own answer. The boy almost surprises himself by asking what he wants him to do.

Green eyes flicker back to his partner, to those expectant grey eyes. He doesn’t know what to say to this, he’s never just...gone to visit Jin. He almost didn’t think that was something that he was allowed to do. He’d only met Jin once, when he and Shoichi first started working together. And even then it had been more about the man proving he wasn’t full of hot gas than actually having the two of them, in particular, meet.

He’ll never forget what it was like to meet Jin though. He’ll never forget the ghost electroshock he felt thrumming through his body. He’ll never forget that stinging connection he felt just looking at the wrecked boy.

Apparently, from what he’d heard of the nurses and Shoichi’s conversation, that day had been the most well Jin had been in a while. The boy reached out in awe, touching Yusaku’s face and pinching his cheeks, petting his hair with open fascination, like he couldn’t believe anyone else even had hair and flesh. It had been...uncomfortable for him, but he let it happen, because if anyone deserved comfort it was once of the other victims. 

Shoichi had been so happy by the reaction that Yusaku had almost thought he’d be invited to visit Jin again…

...until he tried to leave and Jin started screaming and throwing a fit worse than he’d ever had before, relapsing into a screaming mess and chasing Yusaku down into the hall with strength no one had expected and clinging to Yusaku's side until he had to be sedated. 

Yusaku hadn’t visited again after that, less because of his own discomfort and more because of the sheer horror on Shoichi’s face after. He felt unwelcome, like his presence had only made things so much worse. 

“Kusanagi...are you sure?” He asks, uncertain. He doesn’t mind the idea of visiting Jin, but he’s not sure if it’s a good idea. It felt like it wasn’t, but Shoichi’s face didn’t convey that. It was almost hopeful, which was...strange.

“Like I said, I think it will be good for both of you.” The man shrugged, leg still bouncing and fingers still drumming. “If you’re worried about...last time...I think it should be fine if we just explain you’re not leaving forever. Or, well, if we sedate him before you go.”

Yusaku hummed, unsure if such measures would actually be very helpful, but he was weak to Shoichi’s hopeful expression. “Alright…”

He wishes the man’s smile didn’t make him feel so hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryouken: [Sitting on his Vrain's login chair, house on fire] This is fine.  
> Aoi: [Also on fire] Yes.  
> Miyu: [Currently the only one holding the brain cell] This is not fine! The house is on fire!  
> Suzukage: That just means our hotdogs will be extra toasty.  
> Spectre: You all have issues and I am, frankly, concerned.
> 
> But, seriously, it could have gone worse. Ryouken didn't even punch anyone, or break anything, or pull a canon Ryouken and hop on a boat and run from his feelings when his tower shaped suicide run failed. Points to him for not doing any of that. 
> 
> Yusaku is also taking this well. Sorta. He's a little...not bad but not good right now. 
> 
> Do you guys think Yusaku ever visited Jin in the hospital? Because I'm fascinated as to whether or not he did. I mostly don't think he saw much of Jin at all, but it's fascinating to think about. With Yusaku's link sense would that affect how Lighting's illusions presents him at all? And, if so, then is Yusaku the only flesh person Jin has seen in a while? How do the illusions effect his sensory issues? Could he feel someone's face and tell they're not monsters? 
> 
> I decided the answer is specifically yes for Yusaku and the other victims and maybe for everyone else.
> 
> Whoa boy, that was a mess to get through. Not sure it's up to quality compared to the other chapters. I'm not gonna lie, there have been whole periods where I just stared at the screen with resentment because I felt like I wasn't conveying the emotions I wanted to strongly enough! Hopefully it turned out decently!


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

**Fika** (Swedish): Gathering together to talk and take a break from everyday routines; either at a cafe or at home, often for hours on end.

* * *

Buying gifts is something Yusaku wouldn’t consider a talent of his. 

He does buy gifts from time to time, every holiday like Valentine's Day and Christmas, and the brief times he would visit Dr. Lecter in prison. But those gifts were different. They were food, candies and snacks that he would give the prison guards during the few times he would wander the prison halls. Or boxes of chocolates and small unopened trinkets that were slowly collecting dust in the back of his closet, their intended recipient likely to never even know of their existence.

Trying to find a gift for sort-of co-worker’s mentally ill brother who you were connected to by a shared history of torture and isolated was a lot harder than just buying snacks for a few guards or chocolates for a boy that would never receive them.

Luckily, Jin came complete with a list of things Yusaku wasn’t allowed to buy him. Nothing sharp, nothing electrical, nothing that pertain to his list of triggers, no food, no live animals. The list went on and on. And by the end of reading it Yusaku still had no idea what in the world he could even try to buy the boy.

“All the articles say the best thing you can do is bring soft stuff like fluffy socks and blankets.” Ai risks peering over the edge of the duel disk, tiny yellow eyes beaming at the rack of things in the, frankly, overpriced shop.

“Socks?” Yusaku tilts his head, trying to think of why anyone would want socks of all things. Socks were convenient, but they itched. 

“Fluffy socks, big difference.” Ai insisted, his small teardrop head tilting, “The articles say it’s cold in hospitals and their blankets are itchy. So soft socks, blankets, just soft stuff in general seems to be the rule.”

“Soft things.” Yusaku hums, turning back to look at the row of shelves. Ai seemed to know what he was talking about. Or, at least, the articles seemed to understand what they were talking about and the excuses Ai gave made sense. And socks were probably cheap enough for his budget. So fuzzy socks. Or a blanket. Anything soft. 

Yusaku had to do a bit of searching before he found what could best be qualified as the “soft things” aisle. It was somewhere between the row of get-well cards and school supplies. It was just one long row of stuffed animals, then fleece blankets, and yes, fluffy socks. 

“Wow, I guess there’s lots of options.” Ai peered down the aisle, eyes flickering everywhere. “What does Jin like? Well get him one of those stuffed buddies.”

“I don’t know…” Yusaku didn’t know anything about Jin, he might as well be buying something for a perfect stranger. Green eyes shifted over the shelves, a little intimidated by the sheer number of the stuffed companions.

“I guess we can just stick to the socks then!” Ai looked like he wanted to point forward, but he was thus far mindful of Yusaku’s command to keep himself hidden while they were in the store. His tiny eyes landed on the section of the aisle dedicated to the blankets and socks, trying to study the options. 

The teen hummed, making his way over. There were a lot of socks and blankets, but they were all functionally the same, he thinks. Or, at least, he can’t tell the difference between any of them. They were all “fuzzy”, and it seemed the biggest difference was whether or not they had “aloe vera infusion” or not. What did that even mean? Wasn’t Aloe Vera a gel?

“Maybe...some polka-dots? Ai asked, looking up to Yusaku for approval. “People love polka-dots! _Ai_ like polka-dots.”

For someone that had so heavily protested the name he’d given them, Ai sure did like to make puns about it. He seemed to have even grown fond of it, if Ai could grow fond of things. He was an AI, Yusaku had to remind himself. An AI that was strangely connected to him.

...was it possible for him to leech feelings off of Yusaku? To learn through observation of his own emotional experiences? If so Yusaku felt sorry for him. He is the worst example to learn humanity from.

Going back to the socks, the boy reached out, letting his finger poke the nearest one. 

...huh…

He poked it again. 

They were...really soft. Nothing like the thin and twiney course things he wears. These are thick, and very...fuzzy...soft, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything so soft. Almost magically so. He pokes them again, just to make sure he’s not imagining the feeling, but they’re still somehow just as soft the second time.

Now filled with the unexplained need to know, he looks to the Aloe Vera socks and gives them a testing poke. They’re...smooth and soft at the same time. Cool to the touch and a strange texture. He doesn’t think he likes it, so he pulls away, going back to the first pair he touched and picking them up.  
  


They’re white with strips, and they’re somehow softer in his hands then they were from the brief touch poking them offered. He squished them between his fingers, the digit sinking down into the plush cloth, warming from the soft fuzz. It wasn’t quite like what happened with Ai, whose mass was soft but smooth. This was more like fur, he thinks, only softer. Infant fur? He can vaguely recall when he touched a puppy once after they’d rescued him. It must have felt like this, maybe, or at least touching the socks makes him recall the mostly forgotten memory.

“Are those the ones you’re getting?” Ai asks, peeking from underneath his sleeve. He makes a disappointed sound at the sight of them. “Stripes? No, get the polka-dots.”

Yusaku ignores him, still testing that material between his fingers. He turns them over, checking the price on the thin cardboard tag. They’re not expensive, really, but certainly pricier than his own socks, which came with twenty pairs to the three the same price awarded these.

But they were soft, and colorful, and cheaper than he thought he’d find something for. So he hums and starts walking away, chosen gift in hand. 

“Are you gonna get a card too?” Ai asks, done with his pouting over the lack of polka-dots. 

“No.” Is his simple response, because why would Jin need a card on top of socks? It was just a flimsy and thoughtless piece of paper with no real practical value, and a waste of money on top of that.

“So you’re only getting the socks?” Ai sounded disapproving, yellow eyes narrowing up at him, “At least get a baggie to make it look like you put some effort into this!”

“Quiet.” He demands, leaving the empty aisle to approach the cash register. 

One of his least favorite things about coming to stores like this is that they don’t have self-checkout. It means he has to go through the exhausting experience of social interaction with a person forced to be here and try to sell him rewards cards just to pay for his things. And that was if the cashier wasn’t sociable.

At least Ai had shut up through the process.

It was quick enough getting out of there, at least, and the cashier didn’t bother to bag his singular purchase of socks, leaving him exiting the building with the soft plush clutched between his fingers and no idea what to do now. He frowns down at the socks for a moment, then looks down the crowded street to the other multitude of shops for tourists. Deciding he was more than done shopping for the day he shoves the gift into his pocket, letting out a tired sigh and moving through the crowd.

Den City isn’t just the epicenter of software technology, it’s also a beach-side city with rare natural phenomena, namely Stardust Road. Add a faire ground and other attractions, and that left the city’s shopping district as a hot, densely packed, nightmare to navigate. It was one of many reasons Yusaku tended to avoid the place. Already Yusaku regrets not just picking up something from a convenience store literally anywhere else in the city. The old T-shirt he’s wearing may as well have been made from haystack for how bad it itches, especially in this heat, and trying to avoid bumping into the rude tourists is proving to be an exercise in fruitlessness.

And it’s trying to avoid being bumped into by overenthusiastic tourists that has him ending up in front of a Vrains merchandise shop and finding himself face to face with...himself.

“Oh _gliiiiiiitch_.” Ai tries to hold back giggles, but he’s failing. And Yusaku can’t even scold him for slipping in public because he’s too baffled. He blinks, trying to see if that will banish the image of his own face staring back at him, but it doesn’t. Playmaker is still staring at him with a stern expression, eyes peering at him from a poster hanging just behind the thick glass window.

There’s no way this is legal. He knows for a fact that he isn’t seeing a cent from this. 

“Go in and buy it.” Ai wheezes from the duel disk. “Do it. We’ll finally have something to hang on your wall.”

That sounded absolutely terrible. He didn’t even want to think about having something like this hanging on his wall, much less about the fact that someone else probably already has this poster hanging in their room. Determined to ignore this new reality, Yusaku very purposefully looks away from the window, only to spot a group of excited girls walking out of the same shop with...tiny stuffed dolls made to look like Playmaker. 

Granted, they also had a Blue Angel, and one had one that looked like Go Onizuka and a few others that he failed to recognize, but they all had one that looked like him. It was a strange sight to behold, and all he could do was stare as the girls, middle schoolers from the look of them, giggled over the tiny dolls. 

“You’ve got merchandise.” Ai whispered, peering after the girls. “You should sue.”

Sighing, Yusaku decided it would be best to just ignore this whole experience and move on before someone saw his face next to Playmaker’s. But he doesn’t make it two whole steps before he’s shoved aside as someone else exits the store with a keychain that looks like Revolver of all things. Not that he has time to process that before he’s shoved again and tripping over his own feet, catching himself and forced to take shelter in the door of the next shop just to escape the rush.

Seems the Vrains shop is very busy today, because people are rushing in and out of it’s door like it was their last chance to ever visit. He watches for a moment, unhappy with the sight, before finding a lull in the crowd just large enough for him to make his escape without being shoved again. He ducks, skittering away from the shops and down another, somewhat less crowded, street.

He lets out a long breath.

“Must be a grand opening.” Ai muses, peeking from the duel disk again. “Or new stuff.”

Yusaku doesn’t comment, not caring enough to muse on the subject. He checks his phone for the time, humming when he sees he’s not running late, and heads down the street, following the signs towards the vague direction of Jin’s hospital.

There are a few hospitals in Den City, the size and density of the population needing more than one to accommodate the need for medical attention comfortably. The largest is the emergency services hospital, where those who end up in accidents or have sudden attacks end up for immediate medical attention. It’s certainly the busiest as well, as even the smaller, surrounding towns are likely to send their patients there via an ambulance or helicopter if their smaller clinics couldn’t handle the patient’s needs.

Jin is positioned in the hospital next to the emergency services. The one specifically built for long time patients. It’s a bit more welcoming than the cold and clinical emergency services building, with the hospital staff attempting to make it more homey. There are a few trees on it’s lawn, and a bit more color to the building, with a fountain in front of the giant front doors. That all said, it’s still a hospital, and still a bit more white and clean for Yusaku’s taste.

The whole entrance is a bit more colorful. The front desk room has gray carpet, but the walls are the same blinding white that leaves his skin crawling. He’s careful to stare at his feet the entire time he’s in line at the front desk, stubbornly ignoring everyone around him until he reaches the from where the medical receptionists wait. He goes through the motions of checking in as a visitor and getting Jin’s room number with his eyes firmly locked on his shoes. And his eyes don’t leave his shoes long after he’s leaving the front desk area and into the long hallways.

The halls are much the same as the waiting room, with the dark gray carpet. It’s much better than the entrance in that the walls are separated into two colors, with the bottom half of the wall painted a dark navy before hitting a thick handrail, then the wall above a bridge color that’s just brown enough to not qualify as white. It makes him relax enough to stop his staring contest with the floor, able to focus on keeping track of the room numbers until he finally reaches Jin’s.

The door was cracked open, and through it he could see Shoichi had already arrived, sitting on the edge of one of the visiter’s chairs next to the window. He couldn’t see Jin yet.

Hit with a sudden bit of nervousness, Yusaku waits outside the door for a bit, trying to find his courage. All at once he wonders why he’d ever agreed to this nonsense after the disastrous first visit. What was Shoichi even thinking? Yusaku was probably the worst person to do this.

“Are you gonna go in?” Ai asked, peeking from the duel disk again, eyes peering just above the metal rim. “Or did you go through all the trouble of buying a gift just to stand at the door all day?”

Yusaku clicks his tongue, seeing Ai’s point despite himself. There was no use wasting time outside when he’s already come all this way. So, taking a moment to let out a breath, he reaches out his hand and pushes the door open, wincing at the loud creaking of the thick wooden doors. 

The Kusangi brother’s both look up, the younger of the two flinching as he does so. Shoichi realizes who it is right away and untenses, a smile easing on his face and hands folding on the bed. “Yusaku, happy to see you could make it.”  
  


“Kusanagi.” He nods in greeting. Ai remains silent, but he can feel the AI’s shaky anticipation. Strange, he doesn’t normally show this kind of anxiety at meeting new people, he’ll have to question his small captive about it later.

It’s been a while since Yusaku has seen Jin, which he takes as the reason for the electroshock he feels when he looks the boy in the eye. He tries to hide the shivers that travel down his spine, not wanting the other two knowing just how deeply uncomfortable he is to be here. 

Jin doesn’t seem to notice at all, his eyes wide on Yusaku, hands clutching at the thin and colorless bed sheets that come with all hospital beds. He had a thin fleece blanket colored purple thrown over his legs, but it does little to distract from how blindingly white the rest of his bed is. It hurts his eyes just looking at it, and his skin itches from imagining how uncomfortable those sheets must be. So he decides looking at Jin’s face would be less painful. Only then he’s hit with the static shocks that seem to just come with Jin’s having attention. He tries to focus on how small the bags under the boy’s eyes seem with how wide his eyes still are, but it really doesn’t help.

“Jin, you remember my friend, Fujiki Yusaku.” Shoichi turns back to his brother, folding one of Jin’s hands between his own. “You met him once a few years ago.”

“Yu...sa...ku.” Jin tests the syllables on his lips, his voice rough from disuse and a little dry, like he needs water. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Yusaku nods his greeting, slinking into the room and moving to the side of the bed. The hospital room is a private one with dark brown hardwood flooring and bridge walls, a single window and a television hanging from the roof in the corner. There’s a closet, and a bathroom with a shower, and only one chair for visitors. So he’s left standing awkwardly on Jin’s right. 

“I brought you a gift.” Yusaku shoves his hand into his pocket and grabs the socks, taking them out and holding them up for Jin to take whenever. He’d been content with them before, but now he can't help but feel like they weren’t enough. He should have bought flowers or something to go with them. Or at least a small bag to put them in. Maybe Ai was right about the card.

Jin didn’t seem to mind though. His silver eyes rolled downward, landing on the socks like he was confused about what he was seeing. But then he seemed to realize that, yes, those were for him. So, tentatively, he reached out, gently taking the soft material from Yusaku’s hands. When he does the tops of his fingers brush against Yusaku’s hands, and the blue haired teen can’t help the shiver that trails down his body. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s just that touched starved or if it’s because it’s Jin and Yusaku has an...obsession with everything connected to the Lost Incident, but either way it leaves him a bit raddled. The contact lingering on his skin long after Jin’s hand had retreated. 

“Thank you.” Jin mutters, fingers digging deeply into the fabric, eyes flickering downward to study the socks. He seems as fascinated by them as Yusaku had been, squeezing them over and over again while his brother watches with a lifted eyebrow. Shoichi turns to Yusaku, eyebrow still lifted, and Yusaku feels his face flush with embarrassment.

“...I heard they were good gifts.” He mutters his explanation, but it feels inadequate even as it leaves his lips. Clearly, he failed at the gift giving thing, and he’s suddenly very happy that none of the presents still gathering dust in his closet ever reached their intended receipts hands. 

“I like them.” Jin claims quietly, holding the socks between his hands gently and giving them a good squeeze. “They’re soft.”

This makes Shoichi turn back to Jin, his mouth slightly parted in slight surprise. He stared at Jin for a bit, brows knitting together before nodding. “Oh, okay.”

Jin didn’t pay attention to the odd behavior, too fascinated by the simple gift Yusaku had given him. After a minute or so of just staring at them he lifted his face again, looking at the other teen with still widened eyes. “Thank you.”

Not knowing what else to say, and not wanting to point out that Jin had already thanked him, Yusaku scratched the back of his neck, “...you’re welcome.”

It was hard to tell what either Kusanagi brother were thinking, Shoichi watching Jin closely and Jin watching Yusaku. It made him shift a bit, not knowing exactly what his place here even was. So he just stood there watching them both in return.

Apparently, Jin thinks that the silence is out of place and moves to do something, reaching out a hand like he wants to touch Yusaku’s cheek like he had all those years ago. Except he stops short, realizing that it was a violation of boundaries, which was a good sign. He’s a lot more lucid then he was two years ago. Which gives Yusaku a little hope that maybe this visit will actually end well. It makes him relax a bit, body untensing. 

Jin drops his hand, the limp limb falling against the bed sheets, fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch Yusaku all over again. Instead he distracted himself by throwing back his blankets and pull his legs to his chest, bare feet sliding from underneath the blankets as the boy tore open the flimsy cardboard and selected one of the three pairs of socks, slipping on the white and purple pair that reached a few inches past his ankles. He stared a bit, holding up his foot and wiggling his toes before turning back to Yusaku. “They’re so soft.”

Fingers flicking as that static hummed in his veins, “Yeah.”

The boy dropped his foot back onto the bed, seemingly content to lay there with the blankets thrown back and his socks on display, wiggling his toes ever now and again as he got used to the feeling of them against his feet.

“Huh.” Shoichi folded his hands on the edge of the bed, staring down at the socks as Jin played with them. “You really like them.”

“Yes.” Jin answered simply, grey eyes watching his own toes wiggle beneath the fuzzy cloth. He rocks his entire foot, modeling them to himself.

“I’ll bring some more next time then.” Shoichi promises, reaching up to brush a long strand of Jin’s messy hair behind his ear. “All kinds.”

“Okay,” was Jin’s simple reply, blinking his grey eyes and turning back to Yusaku. “Are these the kind you wear...they’re soft.”

“Oh, no.” Yusaku shook his head, frowning lightly. “I don’t have a pair like these.”

Jin seemed to decide that this simply wasn’t right, making a small noise before picking one of the other pairs of socks from the cardboard, holding them out towards him, “Take them.”

Yusaku blinked, confused for a moment before realizing that Jin had intended them as his own gift. Once that became clear to him Yusaku frowned, shaking his head, “But they’re yours.”

“They’re soft.” Jin insisted, still holding the sock towards him. The blue and white striped socks waved in the air. “We’ll match.”

The boy was so earnest and sincere, staring at him with those sad, baggy, grey eyes and looking so small in his hospital clothes that Yusaku couldn’t find it in him to protest anymore than that. He reluctantly took the socks, brows pinching as he held them, wondering what to do now. He moved to fold them into his pocket, but stopped when he realized Jin started frowning. He frowned himself, wondering what he was doing wrong. It took him a few more moments of staring to realize that JIn seemed to expect him to put the socks on. Which was…a bit strange, but then again Jin has spent the last decade in various hospitals, so normal for him was a bit different than for Yusaku, who was himself a bit strange. 

He shifted, looking down at his feet.

“Here, Yusaku.” Shoichi stood up, offering his seat. He smiled, waving his hand at the leather. “I need to stretch anyway.”

Green eyes watched the older man blankly for a moment before Yusaku nodded and moved around the bed to take the chair, body relaxing into the hard leather. It was a cheap thing, but it wasn’t agony to sit on either, so he folded his ankle over his knee, working off his shoe and the cheap socks that were technically a violation of his school uniform in favor of slipping on his new pair.

“ _Holy shit_.” Yusaku breathed silently, because these things didn’t even itch a bit. He’s never worn socks that don’t itch before, not in his memory anyway. This was...strange and pleasant. He doesn't think anything in his life has ever been this soft.

“We match!” Jin sounded delighted by this fact, and the static in Yusaku’s veins died down just a bit, becoming something a little more warm and pleasant. Jin leaned against his palms, peering over the edge of the bed. Then he moved to throw his legs over the edge of the bed, kicking his legs.

Yusaku studied this boy, Kusanagi’s brother, with his pale flesh and disheveled hair. A boy with thick bags under his eyes and underweight, bony, body. With clothes that were a bit too big, and striped fuzzy socks on his feet, and couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, I suppose we do.”

Shoichi just smiled from where he was standing, looking content.

* * *

Spectre doesn’t believe in coincidences, nor does he care for the conventional morality of society. He was, after all, a product of a childhood of isolation and pain. Spending a majority of his life living in the Kogami household also played no small part in his lack of regard to other’s privacy, having lived with a boy who was raised by scientists with no sense of boundaries.

  
  
So he had absolutely no issues spending the past week stalking Aoi’s classmate. 

“Fujiki Yusaku.” Spectre tasted the name on his tongue not for the first time. He’s tested the name a few hundred times over the week, until he could mutter the syllables reflexively. He has the boy’s records safely hidden in a secure file on his tablet, buried beneath at least six other seemingly useless files. He’s studied them hundreds of times as well, memorizing every single detail until he could name everything that was legally on file for the boy. 

On paper, Fujiki Yusaku was absolutely unremarkable. A sixteen year old orphan, under the legal guardianship of Den City. No legally listed parents. Grades that only barely justified his scholarship to Den City High, and apparently a diagnosis of narcolepsy seemingly being the only interesting things about him. 

But Spectre has his suspicions this may be far, far, from the case.

He has something of an excellent memory, you see, especially in regards to people Zaizen Aoi finds interesting. Call it jealousy or whatever you will, but when the petite brunette pays attention to other people he tends to commit those same people to memory, marking them as people he should keep an eye on, especially in the rare moments the girl happens to have an actual conversation with others.

It’s _reasonable_ caution. 

Regardless, Fujiki Yusaku has been on his radar since Aoi had deemed him worthy of attention. So he was worth paying strict attention to. And when you’ve stared at a face and memorized small features as long as Spctre has, you can’t help but notice similarities to other faces you’ve stared at for a similar number of hours. 

And he’s spent many, many, hours studying Playmaker. 

It was, perhaps, skirting the rules Ryouken had laid out for him for their mission to track down the other victims of the Hanoi Project. His financier has been rather firm on the subject of staying firmly away from Knights of Hanoi business, you see, and has put his foot down. Spectre was absolutely not allowed anywhere near them unless he got clearing from his therapist for a one time confrontation with his abusers. Playmaker counted as Hanoi business, so Spectre hadn’t paid much attention to him other than resentfully glaring at him on monitor screens for giving Revolver _troubles_ and overshadowing Blue Angel’s _rightfully deserved_ attention.

That being said, Spectre was given permission to help Ryouken find the other victims of the Hanoi Project, and Playmaker was, in fact, one of the victims. 

So he started paying a lot more attention to Ryouken’s enemy, memorizing everything about him, trying to break through the impressive security surrounding the avatar. Alas, whoever Playmaker was, a talented hacker was part of it. Spectre would applaud him if it weren’t an endless source of frustration for even his great patience. Leaving him with nothing to do but watch what footage of him existed and browse various forms looking for statements from other players who claimed to have seen or have interacted with him. All nonsense, of course. The most useful thing about Playmaker’s identity he’d found in those dreadful forms were charts with mathematical equations measuring the curvature of the avatar’s body and debates on whether or not that was his default body or if he modified it.

An absolute _waste_ of mathematical talent, in Spectre’s humble opinion.

However, his efforts were not wasted, because the more he looked, the more he started to notice the striking similarities between his target and the boy on his radar.

Spectre doesn’t believe in coincidences, and call him paranoid, but he finds it unlikely that Playmaker just so happened to make an avatar so similar to Aoi’s classmate. 

And that’s how Spectre found himself following the boy for the last week. 

From these little adventures, Spectre has learned much about the boy named Fujiki Yusaku. He does not have any extracurricular activities, but neither does he head for his home. Instead, he spends his dead at a food truck of all places. A four out of five star establishment he recognizes the name of and is disgusted to learn is the same food truck that occasionally makes stops by the boardwalk outside their home, Cafe Nagi. 

Well, there was no accounting for taste he supposes. 

Once Spectre was over his distaste for the establishment, he was able to force himself into a position to observe the boy from afar. What he learned from there is that Fujiki was seemingly friendly with the owner. Sometimes spending time outside the food truck typing away at his laptop, and sometimes doing so inside the food truck itself. So far Spectre has noticed nothing overly suspicious about this, other than that at night Fujiki would stay inside that food truck for hours on end.

What were those two doing in that truck for hours on end? Did Fujiki have some sort of part time job cleaning? He knows most schools don’t care if their students have jobs, but Den City High is a school for wealthier students, and they would never stand for even one of them, scholarship student of no, having a part time job. Naughty, naughty Fujiki, illegally having a source of income.

Whatever the case, Fujiki stayed at the food truck far longer than Spectre could justify being out of the house without Ryouken or Miyu fussing over where he’d been. Both were terrible worry warts, and Ryouken in particular was obsessively protective, you see. And Spectre didn’t want to reveal his suspicions regarding his classmate before he was completely sure.

Especially since, if Fujiki did happen to be one of his fellow victims, then it would be the one from **_that_ **file. The one he wasn't allowed to touch, the one Ryouken protected with the ferocity of a dragon guarding the most precious treasure among it's golden hoard.

If Spectre was right, then this was the object of Ryouken’s obsession. 

That made it especially important that he made sure this boy was truly Playmaker before he reported his findings, because if he was wrong then the results could be too emotionally devastating. So he has to be meticulous, he has to be sure. The sixth subject was the one mistake he absolutely could not allow himself to make, no matter how sure he otherwise was. Nothing less than concrete evidence would suffice.

But it was _difficult_ to gauge Fujiki. He kept to himself, didn’t wander from his path, and if he was, in fact, Playmaker then he had to be logged on either locked inside of that food truck or from that terrible apartment building of his.

If he truly was the sixth subject then Spectre surely hoped Ryouken _never_ knew the boy lived in an apartment complex full of what he was convinced were criminals. With his notoriously protective nature, he’d likely have an ulcer or two knowing Fujiki has been living there, much less that Spctre had been stalking the place.

Either way, Fujiki has proved to be the most frustrating boy to follow. He seemed to be paranoid, which, given his living situation, at least proved he wasn’t a fool. The fact he lived alone at such a young age, before he should be legally be allowed out of the Den City Foster System, was also very, very, telling. 

There was no record of delinquency in Fujiki’s file, but then again, Spectre is beginning to think the file was doctored. 

Perhaps if he wasn’t so acquainted with doctored files he wouldn’t have noticed, he wasn’t even entirely sure of himself even after watching Ryouken work for years, learning the tricks and trades from the finest tutoring the Kogami money and Dr. Gerome’s specialties could provide. But he does suspect. 

Fujiki’s list of past foster parents is a bit on the short side, which wouldn’t be suspicious to many, but Spectre knew enough about both the boy in question and the foster system itself to find it odd. Surely Den City would have tried more homes before allowing the boy to live on his own. Furthermore, if the reason he was living on was due to something like violent behavior he’d either be in a detention center or would have a list of criminal behavior. And if the reason was medical then he would have a much longer list of conditions and most certainly would be living in a care center rather than a criminally infested apartment complex. No, something wasn’t right about this file. And it only fueled Spectre’s suspicions that Fujiki had something to hide.

The question was this: was this something his identity as a survivor of the Hanoi Project?

So he continued following Fujiki, more careful than he’s ever been, aware of the boy’s paranoia and going above and beyond to both remain at a distance and never allow himself to be spotted. He stuck to crowds, occasionally let himself fall behind on walkways, and even was careful to never approach Cafe Nagi.

There wasn’t a change to routine until today. 

He doesn’t know why, exactly, Fujiki let himself trail towards the market district, but Spectre appreciated the change in scenery nonetheless. Plus, it was easier to hide among the crowds in the busy area. Plus, it was on the nicer end of town, which was a nice change.

Fujiki entered a store, ten minutes later he was out and about again, wandering down the street with there being seemingly no reason for him to have entered the establishment in the first place. Spectre sighed, following behind, only to soon find himself in need of lingering again as he was unceremoniously shoved in front of a Vrains merchandising store.

He couldn’t see anything other than Fujiki’s face from this distance, but he could clearly make out his expression the moment he saw what was displayed, and frankly, Spectre was glad for it. It was the first time he saw an expression other than cool indifference on Fujiki’s face, it was a split second, gone almost as soon as it appeared, but the pure look of bafflement when he came face to face with the premium, limited edition, Playmaker poster almost made this whole trip through the market the best part of his week. It also added another tick to his suspicions that Fujiki is Playmaker, but he digressed. 

He almost lost the boy after he ducked into the doorway of another shop, not wanting to risk getting closer. Then Fujiki dove through a break in the crowd he couldn’t keep up with and it was an absolute mess chasing after him without breaking his carefully in place rules for not being caught. Luckily, he didn’t lose Gujiki for long, but it had been terrifyingly close. They turned down a much less busy street, and it was a fairly straight line of travel from there.

Wherever Spectre expected Fujiki to end up, it hadn’t been the hospital.

Interesting. A boy with no noted family and seemingly only one friend, Shima Naoki not included as he was simply an unwanted suitor, visiting a hospital. Interesting. Very interesting. 

From here his plan was simple, he would simply act as though he, too, were visiting someone if he were caught. 

He followed much more closely now, entering the building just as Fujiki was approaching the desk, moving purposely slowly so he didn’t startle the boy or draw attention to himself. There were other people in the waiting room, and there’s already someone else behind Fujiki in line by the time he found himself in line. 

The hardest part about this was keeping his ears sharp on what Fujiki was saying over the ominous beeping that rang through the hospital, and the woman on her phone behind him. But he’s nothing if not excellent at remaining focused as he eavesdrops on the conversation between the medical staff and Fujiki.

“Name.” 

“Fujiki Yusaku.”

“And your reason for visiting today?”

“I’m visiting a patient, Kusanagi Jin. His brother should be with him now, Kusanagi Shoichi.”

Spectre leaves the line then, wise enough to know he can’t risk following Fujiki any further into the hospital without compromising his position. Instead he leaves the hospital swiftly, determined to find what he can on Kusanagi Jin and Kusanagi Shoichi.

He finds a bench under and nice, shady, absolutely _lovely_ oak and pulls out his laptop, leaching of the hospital’s network for his work, breaking into the records to find Kusanagi’s files. It's a relatively simple task compared to his usual work, almost pleasant. And it puts him in an absolutely delightful mood by the time the files pop up on the screen.

What he finds makes him smile.

“ _Oh_ ,” is his pleasantly surprised response. “ _Hello_ Subject 001, I didn’t think you would be the victim I found today.”

* * *

**Bonus** : 

_The prison isn’t as dirty as Yusaku had imagined it would be. Then again, Den City prided itself on maintaining one of the world’s cleanest and most environmentally friendly cities, so it also wasn’t a surprise._

_The building was a giant, white, and covered with the latest and greatest in criminal correction technology. And by that Yusaku meant there were security cameras absolutely everywhere, and the elevators were the thickest and fastest moving he’s ever seen. Every single window was made of bullet-proof glass, and the windows that lead to the outside were apparently inlaid with solar absorbing wires that can convert sunlight into energy._

_The guards give him a pitying look from behind their thick glass windows, taking in his young age and frowning deeply. Their eyes flicker to the man behind him, his temporary guardian, probably taking in his scarred face and the fact he’s letting a kid visit this place, and they frown with thick disapproval. He doesn’t know if they know who he is, but they clearly don’t think he should be visiting anyone here regardless._

_It’s none of their business. He doesn’t need to explain why he’s here or why his new foster brother brought him here. So long as they did their jobs and let him through then he didn’t care._

_They let him through after patting him and his guardian, taking anything that could be used as a weapon off of them. Then they have to go through another pat down once they realize his guardian has prosthetics that would set off the metal detectors. Eventually they just decide to send in three extra guards with them, and then let Yusaku through the metal detector before heading to the visitor area._

_“You’ve got an hour, kid.” The head guard tells him before they let him into the room, his guardian and the extra guards following closely behind._

_The visiting area is a row of booths, each with a thick two way, probably bullet-proof, glass. There are chairs, and a phone that connects the two sides of the glass. There are a few people here visiting other prisoners, but Yusaku can clearly see Dr. Lecter with at least three empty areas on either side of him._

_Dr. Lecter looked very pleased to see him, that familiar pleasant smile on his face. His hair is perfectly styled even now, and his orange jumpsuit somehow doesn’t look any less professional than his expensive three-piece suits had. That was just the kind of air he had, Yusaku thinks, he was the regal kind of intimidating that always made him seem intimidating. It didn’t help that he was leaning back against his seat, probably with his legs crossed, calm as he’s ever been._

_Yusaku gets a reassuring pat from one of the guards, but he ignores it, setting himself on the chair and grabbing the phone, wasting no time getting towards the point. “I hate you.”_

_“It is good to see you too, Yusaku.” Dr. Lecter does sound genuinely happy to see him, but he knew better than to ever trust that voice again._

_“Don’t call me that.” Yusaku hissed venomously, glaring at the man he’d once trusted so deeply he bared his soul to him. “You’ve lost the right to call me by my name.”_

_“A shame.” Dr. Lecter hummed, not looking perturbed by the less than pleasant response. “I suppose that’s fair, however. But if not a friendly visit then one supposes you must have something else in mind? Tell me, Yusaku, to what do I owe the pleasure.”_

_“I told you not to call me that.” Yusaku hisses again, grip tightening on the phone._

_“Then what should I call you?” The former doctor tilted his head._

_“Nothing.” He practically spit, “You don’t have the right to call me anything, you monster. Not after what you did to me. Fuck you.”_

_“Now, now.” Lecter tutted, holding up his finger and waving it in his face, “I raised you better than that.”_

_“Fuck you.” Yusaku spits again, rage bubbling in his very core. “You didn’t raise me. You were just my therapist, and a pretty shitty one at that.”_

_“Oh?” Dr. Lecter titled his head, brown eyes twinkling in the fluorescent lighting. “I had thought that, after six years, you saw me as something of a father figure.”_

_And Yusaku hates, hates, how much that hurts. Because he wasn’t wrong. He was the only adult man in his life that was around for longer than a few months. He was the only consistent adult in Yusaku’s life for six years. Once he saw at least three times a week for six entire years. Of course Yusaku grew to see him as a beloved figure in his life. Someone he trusted. A sign that someone out there hadn’t given up on him. Because despite rotating foster homes, and shifting social workers, and passing teachers, the one thing Yusaku could always count on was Dr. Lecter. Dr. Lecter would always be there. The one person he could trust in this whole, wide, world._

_Until he wasn’t._

_“You’re not my father.” Yusaku gripped the phone so tightly it was shaking just the slightest._

_“Oh? Was I not the one who brought you up?” Dr. Lecter smiled again, straightening up. “That encouraged you? That talked you through your greatest fears and nightmares? Who told you you were special? Born to do great things? Who went to all your performances for your foster families over the years? Helped you with your homework? Who made you meals and comforted you in your darkest hours? If you don’t call that family, then I’m afraid I don’t know what is.”_

_“We’re not family.” Yusaku hissed again, because that seems to be all he can do around this man._

_“No?” Dr. Lecter tilted his head again, “That’s a shame, I’ve come to see you as my son over the years.”_

_And that just hurts. It hurts enough that Yusaku hits the bullet proof glass, his fist erupting in pain as it bounced harmlessly off the surface, the guards make a noise behind him, but he doesn’t pay attention, “I’m not your son.”_

_“Shame, I treated you more like a father than even yours did.” Lecter replies easily._

_It’s a low blow, an incredibly low blow. He knows that Yusaku’s parents abandoned him as a baby, and he knows that every foster father has abandoned him too. He knows and he still has the audacity to say it even after what he’s done. “Father’s don’t_ d o _what you did to me.”_

_“I was trying to help you.” And he seems genuinely sad when he says it, like he really means it, “I just wanted to rewrite your memories a bit. I had no intentions on doing anything else. I thought, perhaps, after I could make sure you were stable and end our professional relationship and adopt you myself.”_

_Liar._

_“Don’t you try to excuse what you did to me.” Yusaku can feel frustrated, angry, tears build in his eyes, his whole body shaking with rage. “Don’t try to make yourself out to be the good guy. You know what you did. You know that was not okay.”_

_“It was unconventional.” Dr. Lecter speaks, straightening up again, looking all too casual for a man on the end of such accusations. “But it was always intended for your betterment.”_

_“Don’t you gaslight me, not again.” Yusaku bites out, “That wasn’t for my own good. That was illegal. And you’re a monster.”_

_“It worked.” Dr. Lecter smiled._

_“No, it just made me angry.” Yusaku’s fingers curl against the glass, scratching slightly._

_“It gave you drive. It gave you motivation.” Dr. Lecter leans forward now, looking proud. “And it’s a father’s job to make sure his son grows up with the right drives and motivations.”_

_Yusaku can’t resist throwing another fist at the glass._

_“Alright kid! That’s it! We’re cutting you off!” A guard yells stopping towards him._

_“What a glorious day, when a son betrays his father.” Dr. Lecter is still smiling, that proud gleam still shining in his eyes, “You’ve done your duty well when your child is able to differ in opinion from you.”_

_Yusaku doesn’t have time to scream in his face, because the guard is snatching the phone away from him, draping him back. He’s small, and those guards are big, so he knows he can’t fight his way back to the man. But his glare never leaves Dr. Lecter’s proud face even as he’s dragged away._

_“You’re_ not _my father.” He spits, and he doesn’t even know if the man can hear him, “You’re just another person that’s abandoned me, and I’ll forget you like all the rest soon enough.”_

_He doesn’t think Dr. Lecter can hear him, because he’s still smiling as the guards shove him towards his guardian and out the room, flocking around them and blocking his way back to the visitor area, their eyes all sharp as steel._

_“Were you satisfied with this visit?” His foster brother asks, hands digging into his shoulders._

_“No.” Yusaku snatching his arm away from the man, scolding down at his shows, ashamed that he’d broken down in front of all these people. He works his face back into apathy, careful to keep any more of his anger to himself. “Let’s go. You were right, this was a waste of time.”_

_His foster brother hums, following him as he moves to leave._

_One of the guards steps up next to Yusaku as they walk, looking sympathetic, but still stern. “Listen kid, I know that must have been hard for you.”_

_“Leave me alone.” He demands._

_“But you can’t let that guy get to you, okay?” He continues, still trying to come off as sympathetic. “He’s just an asshole, not worth getting angry over. Trust me kid, his lot are a dime a dozen. No need to let him make you mad.”_

_“I said leave me alone.” He snaps, glaring at the guard now. “It’s none of your business.”_

_“Whoa, sheesh.” The guard holds his hands up, “No need to act like an animal, kid.”_

_An animal, of course. Because he’s not allowed to be angry about anything, is he. Just like he’s not allowed to be sad, or scared or anything that’s inconvenient. Then what did they want him to feel? Happy? How? He hasn’t been happy since the white room, and he can’t remember before. So what was he supposed to be?_

_He ignores the guards, stubbornly staring at his feet while his guardian handles getting their stuff back, stewing in his own anger until they’re outside the prison’s front gates. And even then he doesn’t look up from his shoes._

_“I told you it would end like this.” His foster brother warns, stepping next to him with their things hanging in a bang from his arm. “There’s no closure with men like that. They always have something to say, or some excuse to offer.”_

_  
“What do you care?” Yusaku glances up at the scarred face, lips pinching together. “I’m just a job to you.”_

_“This is true.” The man states simply, and it makes Yusaku wishes he could hate him for it. But after he’s been lied to and abandoned for so long, he can’t help but at least appreciate the honesty even as he resents the man._

_Yusaku doesn’t bother responding, just turning away, too angry and too drained to bother with the man._

_“I hope, at least, you found some closure from all this.” The man puts a hand on his shoulder, “Even if it wasn’t the closure you were looking for.”_

_The young boy doesn’t bother answering, just flaring at the ground. He wishes it had. Or maybe he was just too angry at the moment to tell that it had. All he knows is that the anger is burning out too quickly, leaving him exhausted. His fists unclench, and he lets out a long sigh as his body deflates, feeling too empty for anything anymore._

_Not knowing what else to do he starts walking, wanting nothing more than to get back to his guardian’s apartment and lay down._

_“Don’t walk off without me.” His foster brother steps into place next to him, voice firm, “Stay where I can see you.”_

_“Right.” Yusaku exhales, “It’s your job to make sure I don’t run away, right? Like an animal.”_

_His guardian steps in front of him, brown coat taking up all of Yusaku’s vision for a moment. He almost bumps into the man, but stops just in time. Feet scraping against the ground, he looks up, a little surprised. The taller man reaches out to put his hands on his shoulders, but Yusaku jerks back, heart racing and skin throbbing painfully as his veins burn with the ghost traces of pain. “Don’t touch me!”_

_They both freeze._

_Finally, after a long, terrible, moment, the man backs away. He’s well out of arm’s reach by now, hands dropping by his sides again. When he speaks again it’s smooth, even, “You are not an animal.”_

_“What?” Yusaku takes a step back._

_“You are not an animal.” The man repeats, eyes flickering towards the SOLtech tower that always stands tallest in the city. “You’re scared, and in pain, and they put you there.”_

_He doesn’t say anything more then that, turning and walking away. Yusaku watches him go for a bit, stomach kerning painfully before he swallows, following silently. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, Yusaku reminds himself. It doesn’t matter what he does or says. Soon he’ll be gone, just like everyone else. Good or bad, he’ll be gone._

_A month later, Yusaku is living on his own._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rolls in with a cup of coffee and bag under her eyes] I come with fluff.
> 
> Mostly. 
> 
> It's a little fluff, a little time wasted, and a lot other things. But you know what? We've got Jin. Isn't he lovely? Lookit him, he's even happy and shit. He's a pleasant lad, that Jin. Lookit him, having a good day.
> 
> It totally makes up for absolutely everything else.
> 
> Nothing exists outside the brief fluff. Totally. Not at all. I am not a bad person.
> 
> Hey, look, a Spectre got to sit under a tree.


	8. Bonus

**Bonus** : **The Vrains Shop**

The last place he expected to end up was the Vrains merchandise shop again.

Yusaku leveled a dull eyed look at the shop as his feet came to a stop, his green eyes once again meeting with their twins as he met with the Playmaker poster. That he was once again here felt like someone was playing a prank on him, but he knew no one was. He was just coming back the way he came, and he was just caught up in a similar crowd as earlier today.

It’s exhausting to be here after he’d spent hours in Jin’s hospital room. And while he’s glad that the boy was getting better, and there hadn’t been a repeat of the last time Yusaku had visited, it has been exhausting socializing even with someone as quiet as Jin. There had been very many stretches of comfortable silence, but his inexperience with company still left him drained.

So he left, Jin only clinging to his sleeves, promising that he would come to visit again soon. A promise that was just as difficult to make as convincing himself to make this trip in the first place.

And now he was standing in front of his poster all over again.

“Hehehe.” Ai, who has been vibrating with excitement since they’d left the hospital, finally broke his silence. The AI had been stewing in an exhausted anxiety for the entirety of the hospital visit, and now his inability to shut his mouth had finally returned. “Go inside, go inside, I wanna see what they’ve got.”

“No.” Yusaku responds, eyes flickering away from the poster and looking for the exit. Except it was deep in the afternoon and the crowding was worse than ever now. He was trapped between a thick wall of people and the glass plane of the Vrain’s shop, waiting for his chance to leave. But Ai was still thrumming with excitement, a strange excitement and anticipation pulsing through the connection they shared. There was also a longing, an endless want that made his toes curl in his shoes, the fuzzy socks Jin had gifted him cutioning his feet within his leather shoes. The soft fur tickling his skin.

Sighing, Yusaku turned, following that wanting feeling and moving inside the shop, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t regret this. Ai was absolutely delighted though, barely able to keep his laughter muffled as the bell rang and Yusaku forced himself into the store.

A wave of cool air hit him, and Yusaku already regretted his decision to enter the shop upon the first step inside. Immediately he was accosted by the sight of Blue Angel merchandise everywhere. Blue Angel posters, Blue Angel costumes, stuffed dolls, copies of her jewelry, and dozens of posters hanging from the ceiling.

He immediately looked away, trying not to imagine what his classmate would think of this, only to find himself then faced with a life-sized cardboard cutout of Go Onizuka of all things. There were also plastic dolls that had spring latched arms, and coffee cups with his face on them, and T-shirts with his face and monsters on them, all sorts of quotes printed across various fabrics.

“Pssssssssssht.” Ai couldn’t keep quiet at something he spotted, and Yusaku very much didn’t like the feeling he was sensing from his hostage. Still, out of morbid curiosity he ended up looking anyway.

What he met was a whole lot of...him.

“You’ve got a whole aisle to yourself.” Ai sounded like he wanted very much to scream this sentence, the tiny bit of his tiny body peeking from the duel disk vibrating with excitement. “A whole aisle.”

Yusaku did see, and he very much wished he didn’t.

Still, morbid curiosity made him move forward, walking down the Playmaker section that he most certainly did not sign off on. It was ridiculous in a way he hadn’t predicted when he made his avatar. He’d predicted the fascination with the mystery behind the mysterious vigilante, a few conspiracy theories, a blogger or two, maybe some fans that are drawn in by fascination and fame. But somehow he had failed to take into account the nature of capitalism.

There were keychains, posters, and shirts. That was the obvious stuff. But then it became more and more strange the further in he went. There were water bottles, and cups, and badly done plastic dolls just like Go’s, but then it got even stranger. He found his Playamerker costume in various sizes, each with a badly done wig. Eyeliner with his eyes across the tubs, and…

Yusaku stops, blinking.

It was a pillow.

It was a long pillow almost the size of his body, and Playmaker’s whole body was printed across it, laying almost...seductively, his eyes fluttering and face blushing, the back of one of his hands thrown to his forehead and another gripping imaginary sheets.

“...I don’t understand.” Yusaku stated blankly.

No longer able to hold back, Ai burst into loud fits of laughter. Yusaku had to scramble to hit the mute button on the AI, covering him with his hand and keeping his face cool as other customers peered around corners to see what the noise was. He refused to remove his hand again until they lost interest, holding up his arm and glaring at his duel disk as Ai continued his now muted laughter. “I won’t bring you anywhere again if you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

It took Ai a few moments to compose himself, and when he does he aims straight for the mute button, clicking it off and then leaning his whole tiny body against the rim, like he was hanging off a rail as he tried to level his face with Yusaku’s, “Please get me something.”

“I’m not getting you that pillow.” Was his very unimpressed response. He refused to have that thing in his home, and what’s more, he had limited money in the first place. Pillows are already expensive, he can only imagine how much something like that would cost.

“I don’t want the pillow.” Ai scoffs, tiny yellow eyes narrowing. Yusaku isn’t entirely sure if he believes Ai, but the small Ai puts his hand over his eyes like a shade, peering around like he’s on a great search. It’s bold of him, considering Yusaku hadn’t agreed to buy him anything.

“That!” Ai pointed, leaning against the other side of the duel disk now. Yusaku follows his pointing finger, finding his eyes landing on a series of plush dolls. He paused, frowning, recognizing them vaguely from the girls that he’d seen earlier.

He sighed, realizing that Ai must be making jokes again. “No.”

“What?” Ai turned back to him, looking devastated, “Oh come on! Please? Just for me? It’ll be my little buddy.”

“No.” Yusaku repeated, dropping his arm and turning on his heel, fully intent on walking right out the door and never entering this shop or any other Vrains merchandising chain ever again.

But he’s stopped by a pang.

His feet shuffle to a stop, his hand reaching up to his chest, fingers twisting with the fabric of his shirt over the place where his heart twisted. He doesn’t know why, but a pit hollows out inside him, and a deep disappointment leaked inside. His fingers tighten, and he can’t help but look down at his hostage.

He looks dejected.

A memory stirs, and he doesn’t know why. But it stirs nonetheless, an image of himself, sitting alone and equally dejected. He viciously tries to remember something else, but then all he can think of is crying. Loud, aching, sobs that echo off walls, his own small body on his knees, the back of his fists whipping away fat tears as he sobs loud and long.

He has cried like that since that room, but he recognizes what that was. It was soul crushing disappointment, aching despair, the realization that no one was coming for him because no one loved him. The realization that no one would miss him or know he was gone.

Disappointment.

A singular wish that someone or something would love him enough to care that he was gone.

Yusaku suddenly can’t stand the thought of being the one to cause such a devastatingly crushing feeling in something else. And in a moment of madness, it doesn’t matter that Ai is a series of numbers and programs designed by someone. It didn’t matter that someone had written his personality. None of it mattered. All he knew was that no one deserved to feel that way. So he turned right back around, stomped over to those dolls, and grabbed one before he could come to his senses and change his mind.

He purposely didn’t look at the price tag, just going forward to the thankfully line free front desk and placing down the doll. “I would like to purchase this.”

He ignored the warm fluttering in his heart.

The counter girl went from a board apathy to a beaming smile, perking up when she saw his purchase, “Oh! These have been selling like crazy since we’ve gotten them.”

He didn't want to think of that.

She took the doll, rigging it up and dropping it into a little baggy with the Vrain’s logo on it before looking back up and smiling at him. She reached down, pulling up another doll and setting it on the counter. “Would you like a Revolver to go with it? A lot of people buy them together.”

“No.” Yusaku stated blandly, somehow even more unimpressed with this information than he had been with the pillow. He doesn’t dare look down at the doll again, because he doesn’t trust himself not to flick it off the counter.

“Oh.” The cashier actually looks a little disappointed by this, but doesn’t comment, ringing up his purchase and letting him pay in peace, only wishing him a nice day when he’s done, handing him the bag with a service worker’s smile.

He just took the bag and walked away, ready to just leave already. He left the store, the bell ringing loudly as he escaped.

Yusaku breathed as he ended up right back in front of that poster, letting out long puffs as he patted his chest, moving the bag to his hand with the duel disk, holding it loftily for Ai to see that he’d gotten what he wanted.

The Ai’s joy couldn’t be contained, and he dived down into the bag, arms wrapping around the doll, “Ha! _Finally_!”

The teen can only watched, and unimpressed, as the AI cuddled the doll inside the bag, rolling around with it in his arms, face digging into it’s tiny neck. It would be disturbing if it didn’t come off as so innocently pathetic. He looked more like a touch starved child finally given a hug than a creep, at any rate.

At least he’d be quiet on their way home.

* * *

 **Bonus** : **A Bookshop Date  
**

The teacup was warm in Miyu’s hands.

Her hands were more sensitive than either of her fellow book club members, so it burns just a bit, but she says nothing. As delicate as she’s become after her experiences, she’s also grown highly tolerant of pain. Much more so than people gave her credit for. So she walks, paper cup in hand, the heat of the tea burning through it and onto her palm.

Spectre makes a disgusted noise into his cup, “This flavor is terribly bland. It may as well be water.”

Aoi, who neither cared for tea nor bothered to get any tea, looked him over with her dull gaze, tilting her head, “Should we go back?”

“No.” Miyu shook her head, cutting off Spectr before he could answer much more viciously, “There’s no sense in going back if they can’t make decent tea.”

Spectre made an appreciative noise, folding his arms over his chest.

Miyu hummed, content. Honestly, she was just happy to be out of the house and on the town. Much as she preferred to stay inside and safe from any dangers even she could become stir crazy. It was nice, just walking down the street sometimes, with the people she loves.

She wishes they’d gotten different tea, though, because Spectre wasn’t wrong about the place they stopped. Though that could just be her, she prefers cold teas. Things like Boba and such. But Spectre liked hot tea better, and Aoi didn’t care, so she decided to let him pick, especially since he was only here because she’d asked him to join her.

Both Aoi and Spectre didn’t like visiting physical book stores, preferring eBooks or ordering their copies online, but Miyu was a bit old fashioned. She liked the experience of visiting the store, of roaming the aisles, running her fingers along the spines. She liked the smell, and the odd quiet that somehow drowned out the background music.

She liked book stores.

Her feet dig in the carpet as Aoi opens the door for them, and her shoulders ease as she steps inside. There’s never very many people here, and it makes her feel better. He taps a finger to her chin, wondering where they should start today. Last time they did a historical novel, so what should they do now?

“How about a mystery novel?” Aoi suggests, moving towards the right side of the store where such novels were stacked in long, neat, rows. Spectre, forever picky with the books, follows right behind her, straight on her heels. He and Aoi always argued about the books, even when they picked the same one. Miyu thinks they just like arguing at this point, but she’ll never say that out loud. Instead she just follows after them, having absolutely no problem with the idea of a mystery novel being the subject of their next club date.

When she catches up to them they’re already looking over the book. Or, at least, Aoi is overlooking the books. Spectre is smirking. And when Spectre is smirking it can only be assumed something has already gone wrong. Oh dear.

Well, Miyu does sometimes like to poke the bear, so they say, so she walks forward and stands next to him, looking upwards. “What’s caught your eye?”

He pulls out a book, holding it up to show a very pleasant looking watercolor drawing on the cover, “ _Broken By Sunday Brunch_.”

It was...very stupid. She couldn’t help but smile at it, a small giggle escaping her lips as she turned to face Aoi, who had looked over when she heard the name. “That’s so…”

“Terrible, absolutely _terrible_.” Spectre finished for her, smirking wildly.

“Not as terrible as this one.” Aoi reached just in front of her, flicking her fingers against a spine that had a little picture of a dog in a little circle at the top, “ _Dying By Canine_.”

“Oh no.” She giggles again, leaning forward to study the friendly looking dog in the picture, “I hope they didn’t make the poor dog do it.”

“ _Bitch By The Birch_.” Spectre sounds delighted by the name of that particular book, pulling it off the shelf and holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “How disgusting. There cannot be a worse thing to call your novel.”

“I’m sure there’s far worse.” Aoi comments, reaching forward and taking another one, wrinkling her nose, “ _A Murder By Crow_ s.”

“ _I Dare You To Slay_.” Miyu cuts in, looking towards the first book title she could find, pleased to find it was just as silly as both of their titles. She hides her smile behind the rim of her too warm cup, giggling girlishly. “It’s so terrible.”

“ _The Cobbler By A Copper_.” Aoi reads another one, her lips twitching upwards. There’s a rare sparkle in her eye, one that Miyu loves seeing. She turns to them, brunette hair bobbing as she tilts her head. “I bet I can find the most absurd title.”

“Challenged accepted.” Spectre smiles wide and sly, eyes gleaming as well, “And to the victor goes what spoils?”

“Winner gets to pick the restaurant we go to.” Miyu decides, already determined to win just on that promise alone, “Get ready for Italian you two.”

“Oh, well, if the stakes run so high…” Spectre turns, eyes already narrowing at the book covers, “Then may the best man win. I look forward to the French cuisine.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Aoi promises, her own eyes turning back towards the books again, brown irises bright, “Don’t be disappointed though, I know a place nearby that has good food.”

Miyu sips her tea.

Oh, Spectre was right, it really was glorified water.

With another smile, she set herself forward with a goal in mind, looking for any books that had a title that involved tea. It would make him furious, and then she would win by default. Good, she’s looking forward to that Italian.

* * *

**Bonus:The Playmaker Harem Chat Room**

_**AGentleBreeze**_ : lol

 _ **AGentleBreeze**_ : guess who is tearing apart vrains again

_**LonleyBrave:**_ grrrrrr

 _ **LonelyBrave**_ : it better not be who i think it is

_**DarkMagicianPal**_ : lol, it’s totally Revolver.

_**DogSmite**_ : totally Revolver.

_**ThirstyforthePlay**_ : It’s totally Revolver, he’s the only person on Vrains more thirsty for that twink than us.

_**Cyberpunker**_ : He’s twunk! Twunk! You filthy heathens! Lookit that body!

_**ThirstyfothePlay:** _Twink or Twunk, I’d top that that ass any day.  
  


 _ **LonelyBrave**_ : GAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
 _ **LonelyBrave**_ : You watch your mouth about my soulmate!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

_**Unibotter**_ : There goes Brave again  
 _ **Unibotter**_ : Trying to hog Playmaker.

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : you guys are all going to hell

_**ThristyforthePlay**_ : I’m seventeen and stupid, but even I know some things are worth dying for.

_**Betweenthelions**_ : lawl, good luck.  
 _ **Betweenthelions**_ : Have fun getting shot by Revolver.

_**PlaymakersWife**_ : He doesn’t get dibs!

_**LonelyBrave**_ : none of you do!

_**Dogsmite**_ : pretty sure the fact Revolver could shoot us dead is dibs enough

_**PlaymakersWife**_ : Not if I fist fight him.

_**realisticOne**_ : Pretty sure the fact he’s a cyberterroist that could wreck your whole life makes him win automatically.

_**ThirstyforthePlay**_ : Not if I hit him hard enough.

_**PlaymakersWife**_ : Some things are worth dying for.

_**DarkMagicanPal**_ : Like cuddling Playmaker.

_**PlaymakersWife**_ : Hell yeah.

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : I would platonically cuddle the shit out of him and make him feel appreciated.

_**PlaymakersWife**_ : I want to cuddle him by a fire and sip hot cocoa with him and let him know I love his beautiful soul.

_**realisticOne**_ : You know literally nothing about him.

_**ThirstyforPlay**_ : Booo, mom is being a killjoy again!

_**realisticOne**_ : Come on guys, I gotta help you keep it real.

_**LonelyBrave**_ : hes my soulmate and i met him

_**Cardforhire**_ : boooooooooooooo Brave, so jealous.

_**DarkMagicianPal**_ : I would kill for just one second.

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : Lol, ya’ll thirsty.

_**ThirstyforPlay**_ : Well I hoped that was obvious.

_**Dogsmite**_ : But what’s the tea on Revolver?  
 _ **Dogsmite**_ : What did that dramatic ass thirsty bitch do this time?  
 _ **Dogsmite**_ : Give. Me. That. Tea.

_**Cyberpunker**_ : That massive dom decided that he was done waiting for that twunk god among men and decided to just light the sky on fire.  
 _ **Cyberpunker**_ : Again.  
 _ **Cyberpunker**_ : He broke Vrains.  
 _ **Cyberpunker**_ : Again.

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : Even the Majora’s Mask Moon and the Death star didn’t survive.

_**Dogsmite**_ : Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_**PlaymakerWife**_ : bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_**DarkMagicanPal:**_ But did everything else survive?

_**Cyberpunker**_ : Oh, yeah, that’s all fine. But there’s a fuck ton of dragons in the sky now and if you get too close they’ll eat you.

_**GoMaker** **#1**_ : He should just accept Go and Playmaker are soulmates already.

_**LonelyBrave**_ : !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : Boooooooooooooooooooo. Go sucks!

_**Cuberpunker**_ : Oooooooooooooooo, trying to start a FIGHT.

_**Admin**_ : No.

_**realisticOne**_ : I don’t think it’s going to matter who Playmaker belongs to within ten minutes, Revolver is clearly going to tear apart the internet looking for him.

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : I hate living with that guy when he does this.

_**Dogsmite**_ : Oh haha, funny Suzu.

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw how bitchy he was being lately. You’d think his wife left him or something.

_**DarkMagicianPal**_ : I mean…  
 _ **DarkMagicianPal**_ : Isn’t that just what’s happening right now?  
 _ **DarkMagicianPal**_ : I mean, he’s pretty...you know…obsessed and desperate.

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : ...holy shit...you right.

_**TheHiddenOne**_ : Okay  
 _ **TheHiddenOne**_ : But guys  
 _ **TheHiddenOne**_ : Playmaker/Blue Angel

_**CardGamesInTheSky**_ : SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, before the fanboys at Angel.net find you and put you do-  
 _ **CardGamesInTheSky**_ : [Is shot]

_**DarkMagicianPal**_ : I can’t believe we’re all going to die because the two most thirsted after people in Vrains got shipped. So long everyone, it’s been a nice life, I’m glad to die because Revolver killed me in a fit of jealous rage.

_**PlaymakersWife**_ : I mean, if you have to go…

_**TheGentleBreeze**_ : You’re all going to hell and I am, frankly, glad.

* * *

Takeru hasn’t touched the internet in years.

Actually, he doesn’t think he’s ever touched the internet. Not for anything but school anyway, but that was before...yeah, that was before the worst days of his life. Most like the worst year of his life, he thinks bitterly. But he wasn’t thinking of that right now. Right now he was thinking about how to use the damn internet after he hadn’t been on the bitch in years. It’s not like he’s been using it at school or anything. He doesn’t even have an email.

“And you’ll get to see the tower thingy you’ve always wanted to see?” Takeru asks just one more time for clarification, because he doesn’t wanna go jumping his whole head into the internet if Kiku wasn’t absolutely sure this was what she wanted to do.

He probably would have just said no to all this because of how confusing it was if it wasn’t for the fact that Kiku was practically glowing right now.

He knows she’s always wanted to travel, see the world, take in the sights. Wanderlust, she called it. But they live in a small town, and don’t have shit for money. And Takeru’s future probably isn’t going to involve a lot of cash, if he even makes it that far. But time has stopped for him a long time ago, and he’s not sure there’s much of a future. Not when his body is weighed down most days by a white room and ten years ago. Getting the pills he needs is hard enough, especially on his grandparents. And he hasn’t told Kiku any of this, because he doesn’t want her to know, because she worries enough about him.

But she’s found a cheat. She doesn’t have to actually go to those places anymore, because someone built those places she wanted to see on the internet in “Vrains”. And she can go there with nothing but a VR headset and she can walk those streets she’s been scared she’d never see, and touch those towers she’d never thought she’d touch. And the only thing she was asking was that he’d go with her to keep her safe.

And he can never say no to her.

“Yes!” Her eyes are sparkling, brighter than stars. She’s radiating happiness right now, and it makes him feel a bit better about all this, because she wouldn’t ask him to do something weird or painful. And she especially wouldn’t be so happy to do it. “We just need to slip these on and we’re there! That’s why the girls at school said!”

He’s wearing an older VR headset, a hand-me-down from the girls at Kiku’s school to her because they’ve got fancy new ones. It’s a bit tight on him, but whatever, as long as it works. “Okay then, let’s go on our little round the world date then!”

He never saw his friend smile so much. “Okay, here we go!”

Apparently, this was going to be good for him too. He doesn’t know why everyone thinks he’s scared of the headset. That thing was the least painful part of the room, but still, he’s a little slow to slip it on at first. Because it’s kinda like…

Fuck.

It takes a lot to keep from throwing the thing into the wall. The only reason he thinks he didn’t was because it was on so tight and he couldn’t really get it off. Still, it’s stuck there for a good minute before he stops being angry at it. And it takes another minute for him to realize it’s not going to shock him. He calms down a lot after that.

Then he realizes Kiku has already left, so he hurries up to turn the thing on.

One sick jerk and a lot of lights later and he’s not in his grandparent’s house anymore.

“Whoa.” His eyes widened, because this was the first time his body hadn’t been constantly tingling in pain for...wow, a long time. It didn’t hurt at all, and he didn’t even need the pills. He should probably be more impressed by all the tall towers and flying people, or Kiku standing next to him twirling in a circle trying to look at everything at one. But none of that is as amazing to him as the fact the constant, throbbing, ache in his bones is gone.

“It’s gone.” He breaths, staring at his hand. And it’s his hand! That’s his hand, and it isn’t shaking. It doesn’t hurt here at all. “The pain is _gone_.”

He thinks he could cry.

“Isn’t so amazing!” Kiku looked up, golden eyes shining against the blue sky, “Thank you for coming with me! I’d have never come here by myself.”

He wishes he were paying more attention to her, but he’s only half listening, staring at his hand and feeling just…”Yeah, I’m glad I came too.”

 _The pain was gone_.

“Yeah, Himika and Tomo told me that this place became so immersive and unique because some guys named Playmaker and Revolver did some stuff and made it free to add lots of stuff.” Kiku points forward towards a large tower, gasping, “ _The Heartland Tower!_ ”

“Yeah…” He trails off, staring at his hand.

Playmaker and Revolver, huh?

Looks like he owes those guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few bonuses, nothing to see here.
> 
> No, seriously, enjoy the fluff.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

**Extrawunsch** (German): Used to call someone who is slowing things down by being fussy. 

* * *

Ryouken has been putting off speaking with his father and the lieutenants of Hanoi for the better part of...well, a while now. 

He tends to avoid them whenever he can, still torn over his feelings for them. They are all, objectively, horrible people. They’re not without their redeeming qualities. But Ryouken has long ago been forced to face the terrible reality that you can’t be a child abuser and a good person. And that’s what his family is, a gathering of child abusers. 

He likes to think they’re sorry for what they’ve done, that they want to redeem themselves however much they can and become better people. But he’s never had the courage to have an honest conversation about the subject with them, too fearful that the answer won’t be what he wants to hear. 

So, yes, he avoids his family like the plague.

But he can’t work as the de facto leader of their terrorist organization and avoid them forever, so a meeting between them was inevitable. Afterall, he couldn’t very well keep ghosting their calls when he was so obviously active across Vrains.

So that’s why he’s here, now, in their digital space, doing the single most difficult thing that he will ever do in his teenage life. Talking to his father about why, exactly, he’s been so intent on personally capturing Playmaker and tearing apart the internet doing so.

Which was a bit hyperbolic in his humble opinion. It was Playmaker that tore apart Vrains, Ryouken just cleared the sky of clutter so he could actually fly and look for him. Destruction of digital properties and any stress SOLtech faced therein was the fault of the Ignis that had, thankfully, at least not eaten his surrogate creator.

“Your enthusiasm is...much appreciated.” His father tries uncertainty. Everything about this situation is tense and awkward, and it’s very obvious to everyone. It’s very different for them as well, because it’s so very rare that Ryouken has to be scolded, as far as his father and the others are concerned. Or at least, he has no memory of them ever scolding him. And, beyond that, it’s very startlingly clear that his father is completely unprepared for this. “...but I feel that you are perhaps...too focused on capturing Playmaker.”

His formative years must have been handled by his mother, he supposes. But like many things, the subject was something he’d never spoken about with his father. And he’s never looked into her himself, too fearful of what he would find. He doesn’t want to look into his own history and find that his mother was no different than his father. 

He’s not sure he could handle that kind of bitter disappointment.

“Playmaker is…” He struggles to find the words that will both satisfy his father and effectively dismiss the man, hopefully without going into too much detail as to why he’s so focused. “...in possession of the missing Ignis. It seems to me that the most effective way to deal with the issues is to directly confront him. If a few things get destroyed along the way, so be it.”

His father hums deeply, eyes sharp on him. Ryouken felt the weight of his gaze like a vice. He felt the weight of all their gazes on him. It’s not often he truly feels his young age when surrounded by his family, he can only remember two other instances in all of his eighteen years; when he announced that he was going to look for their victims and they had to stay away from them, and when he announced that he would only help the Knights of Hanoi to a certain extent. 

It hurt them, he thinks, that he chose their victims over them even after what happened last time. And it only hurt them more that he would make those same victims his priority over their mission, that he didn’t trust them enough to treat the hunt for the Ignis as the supposed humanity threatening danger his father claimed them to be.

Ryouken thinks that his father’s word just...isn’t enough. The last time the man had been so certain about the future of humanity six children had been tortured for months. He’d been so certain, completely convinced that their pain would be a small sacrifice in the face of the billions of lives that would be made better. And yet here they are, here and now, with another certainty. This time the exact opposite, and Ryouken isn’t sure he can trust his own father’s judgement.

“Perhaps there are less…” His father is trying to be kind and concerned, and Ryouken truly does appreciate the sentiment. “...obvious approach? Perhaps something more subtle to lure him out? If we use the virus…”

“There’s no need to use the virus.” Ryouken hurriedly assured, because for all he wants to save humanity, he doesn’t want to drag other people into this. It was one thing to destroy some code that could be replaced. It was another thing to hurt a real person. Not when there was so much uncertainty around his father’s claims. “But...you are correct. I will try more subtle methods in hunting down Playmaker.”

His father’s eyes burn on him, jaw clenched. The thin disapproval hurts as much as he imagines an actual blow would. But he remains unflinching even then, standing his ground even though all he wants to do is shake.

It’s Dr. Gerome that speaks next, his unintentional savior, “Well, if that’s what you want then I have some ideas…”

“That...will be unnecessary as well.” Ryouken answers the man, turning to face the others now. As he thought, they’re watching him, distressed. Their eyes glazed with the same worry they’ve had ever since he’d first brought Spectre home. “I have plans of my own I can act on, there’s no need for you to get involved.”

Asoy and Kyoko flinch, just the slightest bit, and he realizes that he may have come across much harsher than he'd meant to. But he remains silent, because he can’t afford to have regrets here. He’s the leader of this organization, and his decisions are finally. He can’t allow himself to go back on his words, or question himself, or apologize. Especially not with the tensions in his relationship with them.

He can’t let them take an inch, because that’s all they’d need to start justifying themselves again. And that isn’t something he can let happen. Because they were wrong, and the only way they’ll ever accept that is if he stays angry at them, if they have to face a devastating consequence of their actions. 

Gerome merely shrugs, having both expected and gotten used to this. It’s both the most comforting and worrying reaction Ryouken could have hoped for. He’s happy for the easy acceptance, the subtle promise that Gerome wouldn’t question or harass him further on the subject. But it also meant that a distance Ryouken can’t fix may be forming between them. That scares him, that scares him to his core.

He’s never wanted to choose between the Knights and the Hanoi Project’s Subjects. 

But between the growing distance and Suzukage’s rage, his father’s illness, and now Playmaker...he may have to very soon.

He logs out of his account right then and there.

When he awakens in his station chair his body feels heavy, and he falls against the back of the leather seat. He blinks, eyes burning, the bags throbbing. He moves to lay on the floor, arms spread wide around him. Darkness creeps over the edges of his vision, his lips twitching as sleep threatens to take him.

His nap before the meeting had only left him feeling worse, it seemed, his body aching for more rest. Perhaps his father was wise to warn him to slow down. It seemed his obsession with finding Playmaker was actively taking a toll on his health. 

Against his will, his eyes slip closed, and he falls asleep in his chair.

* * *

“I'm worried about Ryouken.” Miyu confesses to him onces they reach Cafe Nagi, finishing their long trip down the stairs and towards the hotdog truck they’d spotted on the security cameras. The truth was, Suzukage wasn’t all that eager for a hotdog today. Yeah, he loves them, and the truck sells his favorite, but he doesn’t always want them, especially right now. He’s not actually very hungry, but he really, really, wants to get out of the house.

“You should be.” Suzukage says, finding a seat and sitting down, he doesn’t feel like ordering yet, and he’s sure Miyu will get them some coffee or tea or something once they’re done talking about the local pissbaby. Suzukage does a quick surveillance of the area. The only other person sitting at all the tables is the mystery guy, which makes him feel delighted. But the mystery guy isn’t paying them any sort of attention, just typing away at his laptop, wearing his normal jacket with his hoodie up, not paying any sort of attention to them as he worked away at his computer.

Who are you, mystery guy? What is your story? How do you not die wearing a jacket right next to a beach during this hot as heck weather?

“He’s been...acting very strange lately.” Miyu sits in the chair across from him, hands on the table, folding a bit of her dress under her legs. From the corner of his eye, Suzukage can see the truck owner look up at them, recognizing them as regulars. He smiles, probably knowing that he’ll get orders out of them soon enough. 

“No shit.” Suzukage turns his attention back to his housemate, drumming his fingers on his table, “Look, Miyu, I’ve been talking to some guys online, and they-”

“Suzukage! You should know better than to talk about personal stuff online.” Miyu scolded him, not even letting him finish his dang point. Which, rude Miyu, totally rude.

“You know I’m not half the dumbass I pretend to be Miyu.” He points out, wrinkling his nose, “I’m not super personal. They don’t know where I live or anything. Geez.”

Miyu sights helplessly, not approving, but seeing his point. “Alright, but what do your chatroom friends have to do with any of this.”

“If you’d let me finish you’d know.” Suzukage drummed his fingers louder, leaning into her space as he lowered his voice, “Okay, so, I was talking to my friends online, and one of them pointed out that his weird thing with you-know-who might be a bit...weird.”

Miyu frowned, face growing worried as she caught on who he meant. She may not have been paying as much attention to the Vrains drama as he was, but it was downright impossible to miss out on the way their roommate had been going on. Ryouken has been...well, a walking fucking disaster for lack of a better word. He doesn’t eat, he won’t sleep, he's just a coffee junkie obsessively hopping between logging into Vrains and jumping onto his computers to hack shit. It’s like some kind of frantic chipmunk, and Suzukage thinks the only reason he even took a nap last night was because he had a meeting with the fuckwits today. “Of course it’s strange, Suzukage, the whole situation is...atypical.”    
  
“No shit.” Suzukage wrinkled his nose, pausing his drumming, “But here’s the thing. I think you and I were missing some context.”

Miyu folded her hands over the table, looking worried, “Like...what, exactly? We both know why he’s...acting like this. It’s not so unusual. I know you haven’t seen it, but he acted like this when we found your trail.”

“ _ This _ bad?” Suzukage asked, an eyebrow hitting his hairline.

“Well...no. He overworked himself and became fixated...but he wasn’t quite like this. He was still reasonable.” Miyu tilted her head, frowning deeply, eyebrows knitting together. “But maybe it’s because...well...you know. The awkward position he’s been put in because of what you-know-who is doing?”

“Or…” Suzukage patted the table nervously, biting his lip as he put out his theory, “...there’s backstory.”

“Backstory?” Miyu frowned, sitting up straight, “Suzu…I don’t think-”

“No, listen.” Suzukage leaned forward, fingers squeezing against the table, “I seriously think there’s some kind of backstory there. Like, okay, Ryou is  _ super _ fixated. Like, really, really, weirdly so. And I’m thinking there’s something we don’t know. Like, like, okay. Miyu. Haven’t you ever wondered why he decided to find us all in the first place?”

“Suzu…” Miyu frowns, “You  _ know _ why.”

“I know, I know. But, like, think Miyu.” Suzukage leans further forward, hoping somehow that getting closer to her would somehow show just how serious he is. “Think of just how far he’s gone. Think really, really, hard. Is guilt really enough for all that?’

The brunette girl frowns, a small clicking sound leaving her lips, “Well...you know what happened with Spectre, that contributed to his decision.”

Suzukage swallowed down his frustration, trying his best to make the girl see what he had, “I know, and it’s true. But really, really, think about it. You know how much he loves his dad. Think really hard. What made him make the call in the first place.”

“Any decent human being, Suzu.” Miyu sounded very unimpressed by his question. And, maybe if he were anyone else, Suzukage would have felt shamed by her words. But he wasn’t anyone else. He was something of a cynic. A knight in sour armor. He wanted the best for humanity, but believed in the worst by default. Yeah, there was basic human decency, and most people had it, but not everyone. And, sadly, Ryou was raised by a bunch of fuckbuckets with no sense of boundaries. And, yeah, he had a big moral compass, but even then the guy had trouble accepting what his “family” are rotten people down to their cores. Ryou was a good guy, and he was trying to be better, but he still has a way to go. And, frankly, little kids lack a lot of the empathy they do with they’re older and wiser, because they’re dumb and their brains don’t process all that yet. He thinks. Maybe. Either way, he knows little kids are dumb and also assholes. And Ryouken had been there a few times, Suzukage knows because the guy said so once, when he was a bit too tired to realize he shared that fact. He’d been there a few times, and he’d seen them get hurt a few times. And it still took six months for him to call the police. Nah, something had to have pushed him over the edge. Something had to be the breaking point.

Suzukage thinks that Playmaker may have been that breaking point.

“Look, all I’m saying is…” Suzukage lets his eyes wander around him, suddenly paranoid that someone would overhear him. But the only people there are mystery guy and…

“Boo!” 

“AHH!” Suzukage jumps up from his seat, his heart lurching painfully as he grabs his chest, his chair hitting the ground and skitting away as he jumps back, his knees also bumping the table as he backs away. The ruckus catches the attention of the hotdog guy, and even the mystery guy looks up from his computer, an accomplishment in of itself, but not one he can enjoy when all he can focus on is the  _ asshole _ standing there, smirking, like an asshole. “Spectre! You asshole! You know my heart can’t take that shit!”

Spectre, hands clasped behind his back, leaning forward with that asshole smirk, only said, “So sorry.”

“Spectre.” Miyu’s voice was thick with disapproval as she stood up, her dress billowing as she rounded on him, “That wasn’t nice, you scared him.”

“Just a bit of fun.” The jerk waved off, smiling all charming and shit. How dare he try to get out of this by charming one of his girlfriends! How dare! 

“What are you even doing here?” Suzukage demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and being purposely huffy, wanting the guy to know just how much of a dick he was. Because, gosh damn it, he doesn’t need his life shortened anymore than it already is. He’s aiming to live past twenty-eight! Like the one song said!

“Why, to order a coffee of course.” Spectre looked up, his eyes going not to the cafe owner, but rather to the mystery guy. He held up his hand, greeting the other, “Oh! Fujiki! It’s good to see you here! Are you a regular at this establishment?”

Wait…

Wait, wait, wait.

Since when does  _ Spectre _ know who the mystery guy is? How had this happened? When had this happened? Why had it happened? What was going on? 

Suzukage could only watch, gobsmacked, as the mystery guy looked up, green eyes peering from beneath the hoodie. He titled his head, frowning, “Do I know you?”   
  
Spectre didn’t seem bothered by this Fujiki’s question, instead just smiling and moving closer to him, “Oh, you don’t remember? We met at the school’s duel club. I’m Zaizen Aoi’s friend, if you recall.”

The boy frowned, looking up at him. From inside the hotdog truck the vendor watched them intently, gripping his tongs in a white knuckled grip. Suzukage watched too, his eyes flickering between Spectre and Fujiki, the vendor, and Miyu, who was watching them warrily. 

Finally, Fujiki responded, nodding his head and stating softly, “...I remember.”

The hotdog vendor’s hand slackened, and Suzukage couldn’t help but wonder if the man was ready to brain Spectre the second Fujiki said he didn’t know him. Which at least told him a lot about why the guy was here. He’s clearly friends with the owner. It’s...a little disappointing actually, especially since Suzukage had always thought there was  _ more _ to this guy.

...then he remembers that  _ Spectre _ willingly walked up to the guy and introduced himself and wondered what the hell was going on here.

“I’m Kogami Spectre, in case you don’t remember.” His roommate smiled, clasping his hands in front of himself. “How wonderful that you found yourself so close to my home.”

That caused Yusaku to pause. Behind the grill, hotdog guy froze too, his grip tightening on the tongs all over again as his eyes locked onto the pair intensely. He spoke again softly, “Kogami...Spectre?”

“Ah, yes.” Spectre gave that smile he has when he thinks he’s won something, the one that always made Suzukage feel like the guy was gonna eat him whenever it was pointed at him. “That is my name.”

Fujiki just stood there for a moment, not saying or doing anything. Hotdog guy never once looked away from them, and it made Suzukage want to die from awkwardness. He wanted so badly to know what was going on. So he did what a wild Suzu always does when he wants to know stuff, he walks right up to the two and sticks his nose into something technically not his business, “Hey Spectre, who's your friend?”

It was the closest he’d ever gotten to a mystery guy, and now that he was super in his bubble Suzukage noticed just how  _ green _ his eyes were. Like, holy shit, that was some deep fucking green. He’s jealous. He had green eyes too, but they’re more of a forestry, tealish, kinda green. Totally unfair. 

“Oh, Suzukage.” Spectre moved to introduce him, “This is Fujiki Yusaku, a friend of Aoi’s. Fujiki, this is Midori Suzukage. He’s my housemate, and also a friend of Aoi’s.”

“Nice to meet you!” Suzukage shoved his hand forward.

Fujiki just stares at it for a long time, frowning down like he didn’t even know what to do with it. It takes him another minute to reach out, awkwardly taking his hand and shaking it. His hand is soft and warm against Suzukage’s. 

Miyu walks up next to them, hand placed against her chest, smiling kindly, “I’m Sugisaki Miyu, another housemate. Any friend of Aoi’s is a friend of mine.”

The poor guy must be overwhelmed or something because he just stands there, staring at them. And Suzukage is close enough that if he peers a little he can make out blue strands of hair peeking out from underneath his hood.

“I’m not really friends with Zaizen.” Is all the guy says when he speaks again, pointing out bluntly, “We’ve only spoken once.”

Well, at least he’s honest, even if he apparently has the social skills of a brick. 

“Oh.” Miyu frowns, disappointed. “That’s a shame, Aoi could use more friends at school.” 

There was another lull in the conversation, which is unacceptable. There was never such a thing as a good lull in conversation when there was a guy like this with you, because it was bound to get awkward. So he opens his mouth, trying to find anything else to latch onto, “We got another roommate, but he’s an asshole.”

“Suzu!” Miyu threw him another look, “Don’t say such things to a stranger!”

“It’s true!” Suzukage turns back to the guy, waving at his house absentmindedly, “Our other housemate is up in our house  _ right now _ , probably and his ninth mocha latte, acting like his girlfriend dumped him.”

“He doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Spectre points out, pursing his lips. Then he turns back to Fujiki and smiles, a glint in his eye, “Ryouken is, in fact, very single.”

Fujiki, obviously not knowing who Ryouken is, frowns. “How is that my business?”

“Just making sure Suzukage’s very wrong opinions don’t give you the wrong impression.” Spectre turns back to Suzukage with a dangerous sort of smile, “Remember, Ryouken is doing us a favor by letting us live with him and kindly paying for our medical bills.”

The mention of their bills makes Suzukage pause, because that’s super private and also Spectre wasn’t normally sloppy enough to let something like that slip. He shares a look with Miyu, who also frowns, but doesn’t say anything, wondering where this is going. 

Fujiki frowns, his hood slipping from his head to reveal a whole head of bright blue and pink hair, the locks falling against his pale, expressionless, face. He’s...hecka pretty. Really hecka pretty. The kinda of guy that would make a straighty pick him for a “if I had to pick a guy…” sort of talks. Then his face actually does make an expression, a super subtle one, “I’m sorry to hear you have health issues.”

Yeah, Suzu is sorry too.

“Eh, it happens.” Suzukage brushes off, shrugging, wanting to get off the topic right now please. He doesn’t wanna ruin his day. “I mean, there are worse things in the world. Spinach, Ryouken’s bitch fit, kidnappers.”

Fujiki flinches at that last word, so does Miyu. Spectre is actually the one to send him a disapproving look this time. And the hotdog guy looks over with an expression that is absolutely  _ poisonous _ . 

Was it something he said?

“Maybe we shouldn’t speak of such things…” Miyu turns the conversation away from wherever Suzukage stirred it, turning back to Fujiki to try her hand at speaking to him. “So, Fujuki, you go to Den City High? That’s impressive. You must be good with computers.”

“I’m good enough to pass classes,” Is Fujiki’s blunt reply.

“That’s another way to say you suck.” Suzukage giggled, covering his mouth, “Hey, hey! Do you know my maternal cousin? Shima Naoki?”   
  
Fujiki looks at him flatly, “Ah, that explains it.”

Well, that was rude.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, frowning, folding his hands over his chest and judging the guy with all his judgement now.

But Fujiki merely stared at him blankly, eyes drilling into him dully before he held up three fingers, “Three reasons.”

Wait, what?

“One, you both have very similar loud and thoughtless methods of entering conversations.” Fujiki held up one finger to Suzukage. The boy couldn’t do anything but stare as his mind blanked, not quite processing what was happening.

“Two, neither of you can stand a lull in conversation and feel the need to constantly make noise as a result.” The boy holds up two fingers now. Suzukage turns to stare at Miyu, whose face had also gone blank. 

“Three, you have similarly colored hair.” The boy holds up a third finger before dropping his hand, no longer caring to continue the conversation himself.

“Uhhh.” Is all that Suzukage can say, his mind blanking still as he looks towards Spectre’s smug expression. He looked between Spectre and Fujiki, mind still buzzing, trying to figure out what had happened. Did...did Fujiki know Ryouken? Is that why Spectre was talking their roommate up? Was...was this an old flame or something? But, no, Miyu would know if he was. So why…?

Suzukage only stared at Fujiki for a good, long moment before it hit him.

Oh.

Oh!

_OH_!

“Hooooooolyyyyyy shiiiiiiiit.” He whispered to himself, wide eyed, “This is one of those moments where you think it could only happen in a movie, but it’s not happening in a movie, and it’s right in front of you. And you kinda can’t believe it, but it’s true, and now you kinda just want to hit your head because...like...holy shit.” 

Fujiki quirked a brow at him. 

He threw his hands up, shaking his head and walking away, “I don’t know man, I don’t know. I can’t believe...wait. Holy shit, you’re the asshole Naoki keeps talking about in his texts.”

Fujiki still just stared at him, unimpressed.

Suzukage, more than a little overwhelmed, decided that the best thing he could do was walk up to their house, tell Ryouken that they had found out both the mystery behind the mystery guy and found his soulmate in one go, and let the two deal with each other therein.

Fucking shit.

He knows it’s rude to walk away from a conversation, especially like that, and especially without buying anything from the food truck, but this was an emergency. If Ryouken got laid he’d stop being a bitch to deal with and then he could finally walk around his house in peace again. That made his path very clear to him.

Only, by the time he’s halfway up the stairs to their home, Spectre and Miyu catch up to him, stopping his ascent with a hand on each shoulder, “Suzu! Wait!”

“Holy shit.” Is all he can say as the two move in front of him, “I cannot believe.”

“Neither could I, when I realized.” Spectre smiled, holding his own chin. “Truly, we live a life of irony.”

“Holy shit.” Suzukage shook his head, “We gotta tell Ryouken. Holy shit.”

Spectre smiled, holding up his hand, “I would love to do nothing more than that. In fact, I also found the first victim by following him all week.”

Miyu’s nose wrinkled at the mention of stalking, and Suzukage could tell by the look on her face that there was going to be a strict conversation about that. But she was quickly swept up by the other news, making a surprised noise, “The first victim?”

“Seems the hotdog vendor is his older brother.” Spectre smiled, shrugging, “Fujiki has been making daily visits the last few days.”

“So you found not one, but two other victims.” Suzukage shook his head, “That makes this better, maybe if we bring Ryouken this news he’ll stop being a pissrat.” 

“You’re forgetting something.” Spectre frowns, hands clasping, “Playmaker is firmly against him...it is best to approach this cautiously, when he is of sound mind. I would suggest we get him to sleep tonight and tell him in the morning, when he can properly plan what to do with this information.”

“Or we could tell him now.” Suzukage pointed out, clicking his tongue, “And he can stop living on mocha lattes and no sleep. Because the guy he’s looking for is, like, right there.”

“Yes, and what do you think he’ll look like to said “guy” when he ends up rushing up to him like a madman who hasn’t slept in days and is high off of caffeination and obsession?” Spectre hummed, giving him a stern look. “Likely not very attractive.”

Damn...that was a good point.

Suzukage groaned as he realized that meant he would have to sit on this life altering secret all fucking night. 

Ugh, that sucks, he’s terrible at keeping secrets.

* * *

“Only you could scare off my customers like that.” Kusanagi jokes, sending him a look, “That poor boy has to live with the knowledge he’s so similar to Shima now.”

Yusaku side eyes the man, frowning. After a moment he shrugged, moving to enter the back of the truck, “I doubt they were going to buy anything anyway, I think they came here to escape their roommate.”

“They’re regulars, they’d have gotten something eventually.” Kusanagi responded, wrinkling his nose, “Except…”

“That Spectre guy is a freeeeeeeak.” Ai pushes himself out of the duel disk, hanging over the side and looking up at them, “Weirdo. He looked like he wanted to eat you.”

“Maybe he did.” Kusanagi frowned, turning to Yusaku, “His name…”

“I heard it.” Yusaku didn’t bother giving it even a second thought, moving towards his docking station, “I think it’s time my vacation ended.”

“Awwwww.” Ai cried as he opened the door, “Are we seriously going back to work? While there’s a Death Star in the sky?”

“We have a lead.” Yusaku turns to close the door behind him, “I’m not going to let that slip by. Kusanagi, find what you can and relate it to me. If he’s related to Dr. Kogami, we may be able to find out more…”

“Got it kid.” Kusanagi waves, shutting down the window to the cafe, “I’ll find out what I can, you find a knight or something. I’ve got your back.”

“I know.”

Yasuku shoves the door closed, letting himself fall into the Vrains, feeling all the aches and pains melt away as he was welcomed back into the network after being gone for far too long. He blinks away the blue overtaking his vision, his eyes welcoming the sight of a city that’s changed so much.

He doesn’t wait, riding the wind as he surfed the skies, eyes sharp as he watched everything around him.

“So much weird shit is here now.” Ai leaned out his duel disk, watching the colorful sights beneath him, “So cool…”

“Quiet.” 

“Aww.” The Ai leaned against his own hand, pouting. “You’re so mean when you’re like this. I-”

Whatever Ai was going to say, it was cut off when he caught sight of something he must consider very, very, interesting. He leaned forward, golden eyes burning as he stared ahead, “Hey, that knight guy is getting his face punched in!”

That caught his attention.

Yusaku follows Ai’s gaze towards the supposed punching, only to see it was an actual punching. On what Yusaku guesses was a castle from some sort of movie, on a balcony, a knight was, in fact, being punched by an avatar. The lower tier knight held by his color as the avatar, a mix of bright blues and oranges, gave another punch to his nose.

The mods must have removed the violence filter.

Yusaku pauses as he watches the punching commence, eyes locked on them as the knight pleads with his assailant to stop. But the avatar wasn’t about to stop, instead throwing the guy into the wall and cracking his knuckles. “You should have thought about that before you touched Kiku you asshole!”

Sighing, Yusaku debated if he should step in or not, until the knight made the decision for him.

“I was just trying to lure out Playmaker!” The knight shouted, holding up his hands defensively, “One of the leaders asked me to stir up some trouble! I swear I didn’t mean to hurt your girl.”

“That’s even worse!” The guy shouts, ready to hit the man again.

But it seemed he needed information from this man, and for that he needed said man conscious. So he swooped down, landing between the other user and the knight just before another punch could be thrown, startling them both. The knight sputtered, flinching as he realized who was in front of them.

“You wanted to lure me out then?” He speaks, staring unblinkingly at the man, “Here I am. Who sent you?”

“Baira.” The man doesn’t even hesitate to sell them out, “Female. Red hair and such. Please don’t hurt me.”

“ _ I’m _ going to hurt you.” The user next to him snarls. “Tell us where we can find this Baria or I’ll break more than just your nose.”

Before Yusaku can tell him he shouldn’t get involved in things not his business, the knight speaks again, singing like a bird, “She wants something called an Ignis, she said you would know what it means. Meet her at Big Ben, she’ll be waiting if I send the PM.”

“Good! Tell her Soulburner and Playmaker are  _ both _ coming to kick her ass!” The avatar next to him, Soulburner, punches his own palm, looking absolutely furious. 

Again, he’s about to tell the man not to get involved, but the knight has already sent out the PM with shaky hands, gulping loudly. “Done!”

“Good!” And with that Soulburner turns, looking out over the horizon, “Now who is Big Ben and where can I find him?”

“He’s the big clock!”

“Gottcha!” Soulburner then turns to him, “Ready to go kick some ass?”

“Don’t ge-”

“Good!” Soulburner then pulls out a board, jumping on it and riding away, “By the way, nice to meet you!”

Playmaker can only watch, baffled, before sighing and chasing after the idiot.

“I approve of our new partner.” Ai comments, “I like him a whole lot better than Go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things go from zero to a hundred as people go behind other people's backs to do things and disaster children continue to be disasters.
> 
> This isn't going to end well, especially for Yusaku and Ryouken's metal health.
> 
> At least Yusaku made four whole new friends today. Kinda. Baby steps.
> 
> Someone buy Suzu a whole lot of hotdogs and soda. He needs it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning of electrocution and harm against minors.

* * *

**Extrawunsch** (German): Used to call someone who is slowing things down by being fussy.

* * *

Big Ben within Vrains was built next to a large stone bridge that led to a field of flowers and a theater that was constantly lit by a string of fairy lights. So the clocktower itself was relatively empty when he and Soulburner descended, something that made his companion stride in impatient circles, occasionally stopping to crack his knuckles, a sound that made Playmaker wince. It’s eerily silent up here with nothing but those cracking bones, and he’s starting to regret making Ai log out.

“This Baira lady is taking too long.” The other boy said, cracking the knuckles on his right hand one at a time, his orange eyes glaring at the corner. “Is she even really coming?"

“Patience.” Playmaker told the other, because repeated attempts to tell the boy to just leave and not involve himself in this had gone ignored. He, himself, leaned with his arms crossed against the wall, waiting with that same suggested patience for the inevitable to occur. “If she’s really a high ranking member of the Knights of Hanoi then we can expect some tricks. She’s likely preparing a trap for us."

“Whatever she’s doing, she’s gonna wish she hadn’t.” The other teen, he assumes he’s a teen anyway, narrows his eyes. “I’m gonna sock her straight in the face and break her nose.”

That caused Playmaker to raise an eyebrow, “...you’re going to outright assault her?”

“Well, it’s the fastest way to knock out a criminal.” Soulburner started cracking the knuckles on his other hand, lip twitching. “Unless you got a computer something that’ll knock her out.”

“Not without dueling.” Playmaker answered, shrugging.

Soulburner’s nose wrinkled, distaste painting his features. “Ugh, I hate dueling. Why does everything have to evolve around dueling?”

That was strange. Yusaku himself wasn’t fond of dueling either, for understandable reasons, but not many people held this opinion. Even fewer people on Vrains held this opinion, considering the virtual reality catered to duelist more than anyone. So he decided to give a simple explanation, “Duel Monsters happens to have a lot of coding within Vrains, and it can be used as a substitute for hacking or firewalls.”

Soulburner wrinkled his nose again, looking no more satisfied with the answer, “I’m still gonna punch her.”

Hard to argue with such simple logic, but it wasn’t a solution that would have been readily available to the people within Vrains only a month ago. Dueling was the only violence for the most part. That and whatever SOLtech could sneak past their loopholes for their no violence policy. It’s why, for the most part, Playmaker deals with duels when facing the knights. Well, that and his physical strength was less than ideal. He’s not the weakest out there, but his body is frail from his childhood abuses, the ghost pains a constant strain that made physical exertion unbearable at times. The dueling solution had actually been more to his advantage. Dueling, hacking, it was a leg up in the competition. He could survive that. He could win that.

He doesn’t think he could win a straight up physical confrontation, however. Over the years he’s learned basic self defense. Just enough to do something in case his kidnappers came back for him. He thinks he could maybe fight one or two scientists, with his determination and desperation. But he’s not sure he could win against an experienced fighter, like a bodyguard or someone that routinely works out.

It may be a good thing to have someone as seemingly experienced with brawling as Soulburner here, then. If only in case the knight decides she doesn’t want to duel at all.

“Truth be told, I wasn’t all that okay with logging onto this Vrains thing at first because from what I heard it was so duel monsters focused.” Soulburner told him, cracking his neck, “But, y’know. I don’t do much computer stuff at all. My grandparents don’t have internet and such.”

That caused Playmaker to raise a brow. It was odd for no one to have the internet in this day and age. Pretty much everything revolved around having access to online content. Schoolwork, banking, scheduling appointments, job applications. Many people couldn’t even be paid without having access to a monetary exchange site. That this teen seemingly had no access to what had become such a basic necessity to the world was akin to hearing he didn’t have electricity or running water. Not impossible, but extremely unlikely and mildly concerning if he had any plans to interact with the rest of modern society. “How do you go to school?”

Soulburner paused, his face going pink before he looked away, heels digging into the floor. “I…ah...don’t. Is that bad?”

Playmaker shrugged. This boy’s personal really wasn’t any of his business. Frankly, he didn’t know his personal situation. And it’s not like Yusaku was exactly a star student at Den City High. “Only if you plan to get a job that needs education in the future.”

“Oh…” Soulburner frowned, scratching his neck, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s not my business.” Playmaker tells him firmly, shrugging, “You know your life better than me. Don’t worry about it just because I asked a question.”

“Yeah, but, like, now I kinda am.” Soulburner’s eyebrows furrow, he’s fiddling a bit, scratching the back of his hand, “I...ah...haven’t really thought of the future, y’know. I just...never could picture it. It’s like...time has stopped for me.”

Those are alarming words.

They’re very, very, alarming words. They’re painfully familiar words. They’re words he’s faced before, because the same thing had happened to him in the most painful way. Because he’s a boy with no past beyond what Hanoi has done to him, and no future unless he can take back his life from them. Yes, he knows what it’s like to live without any hope for the future. And it makes him burn with empathy. He can’t help but wonder what happened to this boy that made him this way, that dragged him down so low.

“I know what that’s like.” He tells the boy in a moment of empathy, a rare bit of weakness digging into his chest. “To have the future stolen from you. To feel lost in time.”

The look on Soulburner’s face is a painful sight to behold. It’s a long lingering pain, and a desperate sort of hope. The kind Yusaku used to see on his own face in the mirror back when he still believed there was hope he could get better. So he listens when Soulburner speaks, voice heavy with desperation, “What did you do to make it go away? How did you make time move again?”

“I decided I had enough.” Playmaker tells him, standing up straight, green eyes burning straight into orange as he clenches a fist in front of them, “I decided I had enough of being helpless, of nightmares, of time stopping. So I decided to take it back.”

“Take it back?” Soulburner questions, like the very idea is something forigen and strange to him, “From who?”

“From the people that made it stop in the first place.” Playmaker tells him, fist clenched in front of him still, “I decided I was done being frightened they’d hurt me again. So I decided to make sure they couldn’t. I decided to find them and take back my life, to make them pay.”

“What...like...revenge?” Soulburner’s eyebrows knitted together, his teeth biting his bottom lip, “That sounds...I don’t know.”

“Revenge. Justice.” Playmaker shrugged, “Call it what you will. I just know that they’re the ones that made time stop. I was in pain, and they put me there. So I decided to make sure that they never put anyone there again.”

Soulburner’s eyes hardened. “You think the people who hurt you would hurt others?”

“I know they would.” Playmaker held that fist high, his fingers clenched until it hurt, “So I took that pain and held it tight, made it my weapon. And I told myself, never again. No one else is ever going to have to feel like this. No one else is going to know this pain. Because I’m taking my life back from them, whatever it takes. And if...if they hurt someone else, I’ll save them.”

Soulburner went very quiet then, rolling the words through his mind over and over. Finally, he spoke, voice resolute, “That’s people who hurt you must be pieces of shit.”

It was a blunt way of putting it, but not one he could disagree with, so he nodded firmly, lips a grim line.

“And these people...are they the Hanoi guys? S’that why you’re fighting them?” Soulburner asked, punching a fist to his palm. Playmaker doesn’t answer, but Soulburner seems to take that as confirmation anyway. He grins, punching his palm again, “All the more reason to bunch this Baira lady in the face.”

And what do you know? Baira seemed to have a perfect sense of timing, because she descended on the tower at just that time, her white uniform billowing around her as she landed with a thud. She stands, opening her mouth to speak, “Playma-”

But she doesn’t get to finish, because as soon as the first syllable left her lips Soulburner already threw himself across the room, bodily flying with a raised fist and cracking it against her face before she could even get a single word out. Playmaker could only watch, wide eyed, as the woman’s head flew back, her red hair waving as an equally surprised and pained noise left her lips. Soulburner didn’t get her nose, he thinks, but that didn’t mean that punch didn’t hurt.

Baira flies back, but Soulburner is not content to let her go so easily. He catches her by the collar, pulling her back to her feet, and cracks another punch. If he’s at all bothered by her helplessness, he doesn’t show it. He just stands there, holding her by the color, fist raised, “Alright bitch! You’ve got ten seconds to tell us why you’re after Playmaker or I drop you off Big Ben!”

The woman seems to be too in shock by the violence to utter words at first, just staring at him with a widened eye. She parts her lips to speak, but Soulburner has already slammed her against the back of the wall, still holding her up by the collar. She lets out another pained noise, but Soulburner is fresh out of patience. “Talk!”

“So you’re thugs.” She grits out, hissing between her teeth. Her eye narrows into a glare on Playmaker in particular. “I should have known. Only a low-life would make things so difficult.”

“Lady, you don’t get to talk like that.” Soulburner has zero room for her judgement, shaking her slightly, “Your thugs are the ones attacking innocent people trying to have a nice time. If Kiku even has a tiny bit of pain because of you jerks I’m gonna find your house and burn it down.”

“That’s illegal.” Baira hisses down at him, “Enjoy prison.”

“So is attacking innocent schoolgirls.” Soulburner challenges, “But you’ve got no problem attacking lots of people.”

“I never once touched your girlfriend.” Baira hissed again, her glare on Soulburner now. “Did you get all dressed up like a hero just to attack people that had nothing to do with you?”

“You order people to attack other people! You as good as did it yourself!” Soulburner put his free hand to his chest, “And, by the way, Kiku designed this! And I think it looks really cool!”

“You're just a teenager who has no idea what’s going on.” Baria’s gaze flickered towards Playmaker again, her teeth gritting, “You have no idea the true danger here.”

“You’re sure trying a lot of psycho babble right now, and I ain’t fallen for it!” Soulburner raised his fist, “Now you tell me why you’re bothering my friend here, or I’ll knock your teeth out through your avatar thingy.”

“That’s not scientifically possible.” Baria challenged.

“I’m ready to break the laws of reality just so prove I can and will do it.” Soulburner held up his fist more threateningly, “Now talk!”

But Baria isn’t intimidated by Soulburner. Instead of going along with this any longer, she gives a cry, kicking her leg out and hitting his companion perfectly in the stomach. Surprised and slightly pained, he dropped her, and before he could grab at her again she’d already moved, activating her duel disk and sending a large, whip like bit of coding around Soulburner, binding his avatar.

Playmaker shot forward, not willing to let Soulburner bear the brunt of anything the Knights of Hanoi planned to do. But as soon as he moved Baria sent another whip after him. He dodged, just ducking out of the way, trying to maneuver around the attack, but Baria is as persistent as he is, and has Soulburner held hostage. All it took was one pained cry from the other avatar and Playmaker found himself distracted just long enough to glance over, trying to see what had caused the other pain. And that was all Baria needed. The whip of coding took his leg and pulled him down.

Then a far too familiar pain shot through him.

Yusaku would never, ever, forget the sting of electricity. The way it hummed and burned, the sound of it crackling around him, the painful tingling of his skin, the way all his senses went into hyperdrive. It was as familiar to him as breathing, and it was something he’d never wanted to feel again.

By the time his body was done convulsing in pain he’s glaring upwards, very aware of exactly what this meant and what was about to happen both to he and Soulburner.

The irony doesn’t escape him that he ended up here, with this person electrocuting him. Likely not for the first time whether she realized it or not. All at once regret burns in him, for his weakness, for dragging Soulburner into this and not making sure he left, for getting sloppy and allowing himself to be caught again.

He’d promised himself never again. And yet here he is, with the same abuser, and this time with an innocent bystander by his side. The bitterness burns in him, and all he can do is glare bitterly at the woman who caught him.

Damn modding.

“I’ll give you one chance.” Baira spoke harshly, glaring fiercely at him, “Hand over the Ignis and no one has to suffer.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was only half true. He knows very well from the files Ai had devoured that, whatever type of programming he was, it was called Ignis. And Revolver himself had referred to Ai as “the Ignis” before. He knows that it has something to do with the files he’d stolen, and he knows that it has something to do with the Hanoi Project, but the hows and whys weren’t detailed in the documents, and finding clear answers wasn’t something he’d been able to do.

Baria didn’t believe him, and he felt another electroshock through his system. Only, to his horror, Soulburner let out a scream of pain as well, the sound ringing in his ears as he bit back his own pain.

“Now…” Baria stands over him, arms crossed over his chest. She cuts an intimidating figure like this, but Yusaku has seen worse. If not for the presence of Soulburner beside him he would stand definitely, refusing to give them power over him again. But he finds himself hesitating, knowing that he has to get the civilian away but having few ideas as to how. “...hand over the Ignis, or this will become unpleasant.”

Unpleasant. It’s such a mild word for such a terrible act. It’s little things like that which makes it easy for Yusaku to imagine how a person like this could stand torturing children. Six innocent children, for six awful months. The very thought fills him with bitter rage. “He’s not here.”

It’s mostly the truth. Technically, all Ai would have to do to show up is log on. He was still in the duel disk, but he simply wasn’t present in Vrains anymore. A hasty plan the moment he realized Soulburner wasn’t leaving, and one he hopes pays off now.

Another electroshock runs through him, body igniting with pain, burning worse than any fire and overstimulating everything. It’s a fresh reminder of why he’s been scared of lightning for years, not that he’d needed it. He doesn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears, but he can imagine the pained noises leaving him, Soulburner’s own pain sounding behind him.

“Where is the Ignis?” Baria demanded, eyes narrowing into a poisonous glare.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t know what he would tell her if he did. Not the truth, certainly, so he pinches his lips shut, eyes rolling over his captor and her equipment, trying to calculate the best route for escape. Baria loses her patience with him, and for the third time in a row he faces all too familiar electrocution.

“Tell me where the Ignis is.” She demands again, as if anything would change the third time around. She must not know who he is, what he’s survived from Hanoi’s hands.

They’re so confident.

Three things. Think of three things. Three reasons to live, three reasons to go home, three reasons to defeat the enemy. One, he has to save Soulburner. Two, he promised himself he would never be helpless again, so he can’t let this happen. Three, he still hasn’t found his voice of hope.

That’s enough for him to push himself up.

“Let Soulburner go.” He requests, just to buy time. He has no belief she will follow through with his request, because she may very well be one of the people who tormented him as a child. She is the one tormenting him now. She’s tormenting Soulburner just because he was there. She dragged innocent bystanders into it. No, this isn’t a woman who will grant such a request.

But it will keep her talking.

“Hand over the Ignis and I will.” The woman promises, voice hard. Playmaker is too disoriented to observe her closely, but he can make out some details. Her eyes are still narrowed, her arms are still crossed, her finger is tapping impatiently.

“I don’t have the Ignis with me.” Playmaker insists.

She thinks he’s lying, he knows she does, because he’d think he was lying if the situation were reversed. Perhaps the only thing holding her back was the fact that Ai made no moves to speak, or scream. So an electroshock doesn’t come this time, instead she asks him simply, “Where is the Ignis?”

  
“Where is Revolver?” He asks back, simply because he wants to keep her talking, because if she’s talking she’s not electrocuting them. And every moment that passes is another moment for him to think of a plan, or for Shoichi and Ai to find a way to get him out of this. “Why isn’t he chasing me down for the Ignis again?”

It seems Revolver is a weak spot for her, because her face twists into something ugly. Her body tenses defensively, and this time it’s only Playmaker that shocked. Soulburner yells something at her, but he can’t hear it over the crackling of electrical currents in his ears. When it stops his whole being aches again, a ringing left behind in his ear until even it is a fading memory as he pushes himself back up on his feet.

“I am acting on Revolver’s behalf.” Baria points at him, glaring fiercely now, lips curling in disgust. “His will is my own, and his will is to find and destroy the Ignis for the sake of humanity.”

Ah.

So Revolver’s patience with him had finally run thin, then. He should have assumed as such. Wild goose chases are only so appealing, he supposes, and it was never going to be beyond the Knights of Hanoi to drag innocent people into this. So instead of confronting him directly he had to be lured out. Must like why he captured Ai in the first place, only they were involving real innocent people and he was simply holding a program hostage.

“Lady, you’re crazy.” Soulburner yelled at her, and Playmaker could see him standing himself. It was very impressive he was able to do so. Most people would be down after the first shock, but it seemed like Soulburner was made of something sterner and more stubborn than others. Or more bullheaded. It’s very worrying, and he wishes the other boy would just stay down. But he stands, eyes narrowed on Baria, “How are you helping humanity by attacking them? That doesn’t make sense! You and this Revolver guy are fucking stupid!”

Baria also apparently has a zero tolerance policy for insults against Revolver, because Soulburner’s words lead to another electroshock for both of them, the sizzling pain aching across his body once again. He shook off the ringing, his head pounding painfully, but not near as painfully as his skin.

He hopes this doesn’t follow him back into the real world. The pain is always there, but this? This was beyond that. This was beyond even bad days. This was fresh and new, and it would kill him eventually if he didn’t escape.

It will certainly kill Soulburner.

“If you kill me, you’ll never find the Ignis.” Playmaker gasped out, pushing himself to his feet, glowering at the woman fiercely. “I’ve made sure of it.”

The red-headed woman glowered right back at him, very obviously displeased. But she didn’t shock him again, only twisted her lips in angry dissatisfaction. “But you won’t hand it over willingly.”

“No.” He told her, too honest and too angry, “Never.”

“You have no idea what that thing is capable of.” Baria changed her strategy then, seeing that cold blooded torture was getting her nowhere. “As long as that thing is alive humanity itself is in danger. Can’t you see? We’re trying to stop it from ending billions of lives.”

“I’m hearing a lot about lives being ruined, but you’re not exactly someone I feel like I can trust, lady.” Soulburner spit, crawling up to a standstill of his own. “I don’t know what an ignis is, but I don’t see proof for anything you’re saying.”

“You don’t need to know what the ignis are, you aren’t involved in this.” Baria dismisses Soulburner, her fiery gaze settling on Playmaker, “But you should be more than familiar with it by now. You must know the danger it possesses.”

The only danger Ai possessed was against his sanity every time his favorite character in one of his soap operas died. Playmaker tries, he really does try to see her point, if only to understand why she was doing this. But even with the memory of how easily Ai could tear apart Vrains and the inner workings of the network, such suspicions were easily overpowered by the memory of how silly and benign Ai presented himself. Perhaps it was just an act, but he doubted it. He could feel Ai in a strange way that no one else could. He was connected in a way he couldn’t explain. And he knows Ai, for all he is at times a nuisance, is ultimately harmless. He’s content to spend his days watching television with Roboppy and hugging the doll he’d bought for the program.

Perhaps, theoretically, Ai could be used as a weapon against his will. But Yusaku couldn’t find it in his heart to destroy an ultimately innocent creature, sentient or not, based purely on such hypothetical situations.

Mind made up, Playmaker spoke carefully, “Everyone is dangerous, but no one seems more dangerous to humanity than the Knights of Hanoi right now.”

That earned him and Soulburner another electroshock.

He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. He wasn’t within his actual body, but he knows if too much damage is taken it can cause a shutdown. So he reaches out, tugging tentatively at the connection he’s built with Ai through their time together, calling for help and hoping the other understands his pain.

Ai reaches back, and for a moment the pain almost doesn’t exist. All there was is safety and warmth again, a promise that everything would be okay.

He believed it.

So he waited, clinging to that same warmth, repeating his three things over and over again. Three reasons to survive, three reasons to go home, three reasons to defeat the enemy. Wrapped here in this warmth from Ai, remembering those words, he truly believes everything will be alright soon. Even with his tingling skin, and the fire in his veins, he knows everything will be fine.

So he pushes himself to his feet one last time, knowing against all logic that he’d be free soon.

And like the world was with him for once, the program holding him hostage shatters.

Baria makes a startled noise, and Soulburner doesn’t wait. This time he’s flying towards her and his fists don’t stop, swinging again and again. One rapid punch at a time. Playmaker looks down at his wrist, and there’s Ai, peering up at him, having broken through the code, “Playmaker!”

“Ai…”

He doesn’t say thank you. But he feels...something. He thinks Ai knows how he feels, and for once he doesn’t mind.

There would be time to sort this out later, right now he had to handle Baria. So he snapped his green eyes on her, watching where Soulburner had her pinned on the ground, fists swinging even now as loud curses left his lips. He was reluctant to take justice from Soulburner’s hands, but he needed to stop this before it went too far.

So he approaches slowly, reaching out and catching the other’s elbow. Soulburner jerked, eyes snapping wide and face snapping towards him, gasping in panic. He gasped for breath over and over, frantic and wild. Playmaker frowned, shaking his head, trying to communicate without words, enough was enough. He could stop now.

Soulburner’s eyes became watery, and Playmaker didn’t judge him for it. He just gave his elbow a reassuring squeeze, not knowing what else to do, but hoping it was enough. The other boy slumped forward, his forehead meeting Playmaker’s shoulder as he kneeled next to him. And the green eyed boy let him, giving him a firm pat on the back in a weak show of comfort.

Those green eyes flicker towards Baria even as he holds Soulburner, his voice tired now, the fight having left him, “Tell Revolver I’m done with the games. If he really wants to fight, then we will. The next time I see him will be it. So no more games.”

Baria’s eyes flicker over him, landing on Ai. She makes a move for him, not bothering to answer. But Soulburner was right next to him, and he is still strong despite everything, and his instincts are sharp. He grabs her by the hair, giving her head two sharp slams against the stone, and just like that she’s lost control of the situation all over again.

“Ai.”

“Forced logout.” Ai moves, and just like that she’s gone, disappearing from beneath his hands. He should have kept her, he thinks. He should have interrogated her, found out her identity and turned her in. Maybe Ai and Shoichi already did that. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care, not right now, he’s too wary. He’ll be angry later, he knows that well, but not now.

“Log out, Soulburner.” Playmaker tells the other boy, shoulders untensing. “And go see a doctor, and maybe a therapist. I’m sorry I let you come here.”

“I don’t wanna log out.” Soulburner mumbled, leaning against his shoulder. He flinched, holding up a hand, “It’s gonna be bad when I get out, I know it. And I’m not on enough pills to deal with it.”

Yes, it’s going to be bad, worse than even now. For him at least. His nerve damage was awful enough to deal with, and he can imagine what the sensation of pain would do to his body now. Pain wasn’t supposed to carry over physically, but the body will catch up to the memory, he finds. And his body was frail as glass.

But it would be better for someone young and healthy to log out and go home than stay here. “It will be better.”

“This is the only place the pain stops.” Soulburner shakes his head, “I’m always in pain in the real world, it never stops, I just live with it. But here it goes away. If it’s bad here, then it’s gonna be awful there.”

Oh.

So he’s not a healthy young body. He might be old, or ill, or damaged like him. Whatever the case, logging out wasn’t something the other seemed to be willing to do. It was going to be bad, really bad, and there’s an empathy Playmaker can’t help but feel for that.

“Then we’ll wait a bit.” He tells the other, “But we need to leave eventually, we can’t stay here.”

“It’s gonna be bad.” Soulburner says again, looking up to the sky, “One of those days you just can’t move.”

Yeah, he knows those days well. The soul achingly, skin crawling days where the body betrays you and you have to force yourself to move. When the pills don’t help, and all you can do to make it bearable is either lay in bed and pretend to sleep, or, failing that, repeat three things over and over just to walk down the street.

“I know.” Playmaker gives his shoulder a squeeze, “I...it happens to me too.”

Soulburner’s eyes are shiny and wet, and he snips, a vulnerability Playmaker doesn’t know if he meant to show. But he picks himself up a bit, sniffing a bit and saying weakly, “It sucks, doesn’t it.”

It’s not a question, just Soulburner stating a fact, and Playmaker can only nod in agreement.

“I’m sorry you gotta deal with this bullshit.” Soulburner patted his back, “If I knew…”

“It’s fine.” Playmaker promises him, “You couldn’t have known. The Knights of Hanoi...they’re just sick people. Willing to do anything to reach their goals. It’s not your fault.”

Soulburner shakes his head, sounding defeated, “How do you do that to another person? What kind of sick stuff has to go through your head to do this kind of stuff?”

A familiar bitterness burns in him. That’s a question he’s been asking for years, and he’s only ever found one answer, “Some people can do incredibly cruel things when they think they’re right...and when they’re not the ones that have to suffer for it.”

Soulburner doesn’t look satisfied by that answer, “That’s sick.”

“I know.” It’s the only thing he can say.

They linger there for too long for safety, but regretting never even occurred to him. They were content to just sit there and wait, avoiding the awful pain waiting for them in the real world. It wasn’t until Ai finally spoke that either of them even moved, “We have to go now…”

If Soulburner wondered about Ai, he didn’t say anything, he just sighed, giving a small salute, “Good luck, Mr. Playmaker.”

“Good luck, Soulburner.” He waves, watching the other disappear in a cloud of blue pixelations. Once the other was out of sight he had no more excuses to wait, logging out himself and readying himself for the pain to come.

And it did come.

Every part of his body burned and ached, and a hiss left his lips as he instinctively clutched his chest. Ai patted him with his cool hands, a wave of comfort rolling through their link, but it did little to stop the burning crawling in his skin. He sinks to the floor, still clutching his chest as nothing but hisses leave him.

“Yusaku!” Shoichi throws open the door, kneeling in front of him, catching him and pulling him close. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“This ends soon.” Yusaku hisses, eyes screwing up, “No more playing around. The next time Revolver chases me, I’m ending this.”

And that was a promise he intended to _keep_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter than normal because of reasons. Also the content of this chapter. This was agony to get through and took longer than normal because of it.
> 
> But, yeah, Taki didn't think this through. It was supposed to be a duel where Playmaker would get electrocuted every time he lost life points, even if he gave them up for a play, while nothing happened to her. But then she got punched in the face and things went off the rails. She adjusted from there. And that's good for me, because I cannot write duels for shit. I'm sorry guys, but even after watching this show and having rules explained to me, my stance on this game is, "I don't know, man, I don't know."
> 
> Rip Yusaku and Takeru.
> 
> Also rip Ryouken, I'm sorry honey. You finally got your nap and this is gonna be what you wake up to.


End file.
